


on my desk by monday

by calamityjade



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Bottom Dick Grayson, Dom/sub, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, M/M, Masturbation, Office Sex, Overstimulation, Power Dynamics, Self-Esteem Issues, Spanking, Top Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18599461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamityjade/pseuds/calamityjade
Summary: Dick Grayson was tired of living hidden in his father's shadow. He desperately needs to find a space where he can thrive as just himself, and figures seeking out a simple job might be a good start; but being Jason Todd's assistant gives him so much more than he expected to gain. (No capes AU. Jason Todd is a lawyer and Dick is hired as his assistant)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story spawned by my poor friend CatKir innocently asking me for an AU about the 2002 movie Secretary with Dick as the sub, and me, your local idiot, promising a pwp. A month, a vague plot and +23k words later, here's a fic only loosely inspired by the movie. I hope you still enjoy it <3

 

Jason Peter Todd was an intimidating man.

 

That was the second thing Dick decided as he tried to smile at the man, and appear self-assured despite the sweat he could feel sliding down the back of his shirt collar.

 

The dreadful awareness that the man behind the desk held his future in his clean, manicured hands was a heavy weight on Dick’s shoulders as the man’s low rich voice shot him question after question. His handsome face showed no visible reaction to Dick’s responses, demeanor as inscrutable as befitting the man’s ruthless reputation in the courtroom.

 

“Do you have any professional experience, Mr. Grayson?”

 

“Why are you interested in working here, Mr. Grayson?”

 

“How would you say you are qualified for the position as my assistant, Mr. Grayson?”

 

The first thing Dick decided about Jason Todd after walking into his office — this being that the man was brutally attractive in the exact way that made him ping every box in Dick’s internal list of desirable traits — was the one Dick desperately tried not to dwell on as he scrambled to put together decisive, coherent answers from thin air, painfully aware of the blank spaces on the resume the attorney held on his desk.

 

“I feel I should warn you, I am a demanding man.” Mr. Todd said, something in his expression softening slightly, making him seem almost rueful. His eyes remained sharp on Dick’s, mesmerizing and frightening in their intensity.

 

Dick desperately hoped the completely inappropriate flirty comeback his mind came up with didn’t show in his face as he nodded seriously, struggling to project determination instead of the nerves or the lust he was trying to stomp out of himself.

 

“I know my lack of work experience isn’t ideal to the position,” Dick offered, trying to smile. “But I’m good at following directions and very eager to learn whatever skill you need from me around here. I really believe I could do a good job for you Mr. Todd, if you give me the chance.”

 

“The work will be rather dull, you realize?” Mr. Todd countered calmly. Dick blinked in bewilderment. “A young man of your potential, with your connections—” Dick winced, then winced at himself for wincing, immediately noticing Jason Todd’s interest in his involuntary reaction to the vague allusion to his high-profile adoptive family. “Could certainly dedicate his energies elsewhere, I imagine. Somewhere with more room for growth, maybe? I can’t offer you career advancement options, Mr. Grayson. You will simply be my glorified secretary in this office.”

 

“I enjoy dull work, Sir,” Dick shrugged at Todd’s skeptical look.

 

Dick was being honest. He’d always excelled at being task oriented, and he had no ambitions of advancement or leadership. All he hoped for was proving he could earn a paycheck to live with, away from Bruce’s overbearing control over his life and his choices. He just wanted to prove he could be useful and be able to survive somewhere that wasn’t inside Bruce Wayne’s gilded cage.

 

“And I— I simply wish to try to find some work I can be useful in. However small. I’d like to try to be that for you here, if that would be alright with you.” Dick tried, looking down at his lap with a frown. That was a weak selling point, wasn’t it? Jesus. Damian would be scolding him already.

 

“Useful, huh?” Mr. Todd said, and his tone made Dick snap his head up, to find the man looking outside his window with a bored, flat look on his face that made Dick’s hope sink down into his shoes.

 

The silence stretched on between them then, tense and awkward.

 

Dick was half tempted to stand and run out instead of waiting to be dismissed, already sure all he’d done in here was make a fool of himself again.

 

Just the thought of going back home to tell his family he’d have to try something else was already sinking into Dick’s bones, making him dread their lack of surprise and unsubtle hints that Dick should stick to what he was good at.

 

Meaning living off Bruce’s money and name, trying not to look sad enough to worry anyone and looking pretty in the family photoshoots and in whatever paparazzi shots taken whenever he stepped outside. He was Gotham’s favorite joke, the adopted eldest Wayne family heir, just a college dropout with no set occupation, too fragile in the head to inherit the company.

 

Everyone knew Bruce relied on Tim and Damian for that, and expected nothing from Dick.

 

Maybe Bruce and those magazines were right after all. There wasn’t much in the life of a Wayne that Dick hadn’t proven to be rather hopeless at.

 

Maybe Haley’s would still take him. If he called them, maybe Dick could still —

 

“Alright, Mr. Grayson.” Mr. Todd’s voice cut into Dick’s spiralling thoughts, already up and rounding the massive wooden desk that Dick had been so intimidated by when walking in. The man stretched his wide hand out for a handshake that Dick returned without a thought, scrambling to stand up to meet him. “You’ll start tomorrow at 8am sharp. I don’t tolerate lateness, the dress code is formal and you will be starting work immediately. Any questions?”

 

Dick gaped, hand still caught in the firm grip of the lawyer staring expectantly at him.

 

“Wait, I got the job?”

 

Dick immediately wanted to slap himself, as if he could somehow call back the dumb, breathy little question from existence. Mortified, he shook his head at the unimpressed look his new boss’ was shooting him, trying to straighten up properly and seem more put together as he drew his hand back and nodded.

 

“Sorry, I just. I —I only meant to thank you for the chance, Mr. Todd. I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret it!”

 

Dick tried on a smile, willing it to look confident and smooth. Dick was pretty sure it didn’t work, but nobody could say he didn’t try. It probably didn’t help his image any that his boss still towered over him, no matter how tall Dick tried to stand next to him. Geez, wasn’t this guy supposed to be younger than him? Did he _have_ to be a successful professional and taller than Dick to boot?

 

“See that you do that, Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd entreated, showing Dick to the door with a heavy grip on his shoulder. “8 am sharp, don’t forget.”

 

“Yes Mr. Todd. Thank you again!” Dick called, but he was already standing outside the doors to the man’s inner office, and the elegant wood was being gently closed on his face. The door clicked shut, leaving Dick standing bewilderedly in the carpeted outer office that come tomorrow would be his new job post.

 

Job. Dick had _gotten_ the job!

 

“Holy unexpected twists,” Dick muttered to himself, biting his lip in barely contained glee. He hadn’t screwed up. He had a job!

 

Dick couldn’t _wait_ to tell Damian and Bruce about today!

  
  


* * *

 

 

To say starting work was challenging for Dick was a painfully obvious understatement.

 

Waking up early had never been his forte, and Dick had been so anxious about not being late that he wound up not sleeping a wink for his first day, ending up looking a fright and feeling even worse.

 

He’d nodded off at random intervals throughout the work day despite the no less than six cups of coffee he’d downed at his station, and had to call back two clients to reschedule appointments he’d accidentally double-booked. Anxiety had made Dick sweat through his shirt by the end of day one, and his boss had looked less than impressed with Dick’s performance or general demeanor.

 

Dick had done his best to improve his boss’ opinion of him throughout the rest of the first work week, but he was painfully aware of the nervous mumbling that had made Mr. Todd demand he speak louder four times one day, the way he’d tripped and spilled his boss’ coffee on day three, the mistakes he kept making when scheduling appointments on the office software, and the countless emails, letters and files he’d been ordered to rewrite from scratch upon his continuous failure to catch every formatting, spelling or grammar mistake.

 

None of it was helped by the fact that Mr. Todd was just as demanding a boss as he’d warned Dick he would be.

 

Jason Todd didn’t just expect perfection, he demanded it. On Dick’s second day on the job, every single file he’d managed to file wound up back on his desk when Dick came back from lunch, marked in red pens scribbles highlighting all the mistakes Dick had made.

 

Dick hadn’t been employed for a month, and he’d been berated on his writing skills, his posture, his typing speed, his informality, his note taking, his phone etiquette, his voice, his filing system, his shoes, his reading comprehension, his hair, his vocabulary, his appointment making, his handwriting, his problems with the printer, the way he knocked on the doors and the substandard temperature he’d brought Mr. Todd’s coffee in.

 

Dick had cried in the bathroom at least five times, and at home some extra few, and by the time the fourth week rolled around, Mr. Todd had mocked Dick’s red eyes and eyebags as well.

 

The lack of a struggle against this beratement might have surprised anyone who knew him, because Dick Grayson had one hell of a temper and a very stubborn disposition against unfairness. It had always been something he struggled to control.

 

But truth be told, Dick didn’t feel Mr. Todd was wrong to point out Dick’s many, many mistakes, and he couldn’t find words to defend himself when those piercing blue-green eyes were trained on his, demanding Dick’s best.

 

Dick’s best had never really been good for much, and it wasn’t enough for Mr. Todd either.

 

No matter how hard Dick tried, he couldn’t seem to ever please his boss. Dick’s anxiety only rose with every day he wasn’t fired for his incompetence, sure that the axe must be hanging over his head every time Mr. Todd laid eyes on Dick and found another fault.

 

Yet as the days kept coming, and as Dick took every criticism and tortured himself on how to do better, Mr. Todd never truly threatened to remove Dick as Jason’s assistant.

 

Instead of resentment or scorn, when Dick dared meet his boss’ gaze head on, Dick was sure what he saw in them was something closer to appraisement. Cold as the scoldings Dick received daily were, harsh as the words or the tone was, Mr. Todd never failed to appear faintly intrigued by Dick’s fumbling mistakes, something calculating in his face that made Dick both nervous and excited to notice.

 

It felt like something was building there between them sometimes, in between the silence they worked in when they weren’t dealing with clients or phone-calls, or rehashing yet another diatribe about Dick’s daily failures.

 

Whether that something was good or bad, Dick couldn’t guess. But the anticipation of feeling it build kept Dick tied to his office chair and to his boss’ changing whims.

 

No matter how much Dick hated disappointing Mr. Todd every day, Dick’s heart simply refused to stop trying to please the man, however outrageous his demands were.

 

The seemingly unattainable challenge kept Dick rising eagerly every morning to come to work despite the stress and the anxiety. It kept him awake, and aware and alive in a way that nothing really had since the days Dick had been swirling through the air in a trapeze with his parents.

 

Dick didn’t understand it himself, and as such completely failed to explain it to anyone who asked him why he stayed at a job they felt was making Dick miserable. They simply didn’t get it. That misery lived in Dick, had long before he’d started working with Mr. Todd. Having a purpose attached to the feeling was an intoxicating change for Dick; Mr. Todd made Dick feel like he could someday defeat that feeling altogether.

 

Some small, stupid, childish part of Dick kept hoping the unnamed appraisal in Mr. Todd’s expression could be the key Dick had been seeking to relieve the burden of his constant unworthiness. The key as to why, despite the constant disappointment, this smart, capable man that Dick kept failing had yet to shown any sign of wanting Dick dismissed from his life altogether in favor of anyone else.

 

Damian called Dick a masochist, a glutton for punishment seeking validation in people who would never give it. Dick knew the boy wasn’t truly talking about Mr. Todd, that Damian rather meant Bruce, but as always, Dick’s little brother was astutely close to the mark.

 

Mr. Todd’s approval seemed just as unattainable as Bruce’s unencumbered affection, and Dick couldn’t help but yearn to somehow prove worthy of both. If that vain little hope made him a masochist, then Dick could accept the moniker, same as he’d accepted the exasperated and unflattering adjectives his boss often bestowed on him.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“Uh —yeah. Yeah, okay, lemme check.” Dick spoke into the phone, hastingly trying to page through his messy notes and almost crying when his fumbling sent his notepad skittering out of his hands to land at his feet.

 

“Uh —please hold!” He squeaked out, grimacing at himself at the grudging acceptance he heard through the phone-line. Dick carefully and gently set the phone receiver face down on his desk, then dove under it to dig out his pad again and search for the page where he’d scribbled Mr. Todd’s schedule for the 23th.

 

He finally found the info right next to the doodle of a smiling kitty, and almost had a heart attack when he popped out from behind his desk like some sort of gremlin, only to find himself staring at his boss standing at the office’s main entrance. Mr. Todd had his leather briefcase in hand and a frown already on his face at the undignified picture Dick undoubtedly painted.

 

Dick scrambled up into his chair in a hurry, feeling his face turn all sorts of colors as he made a half-hearted hand motion at the phone as an explanation, desperately reaching to pick it up in a hurry without dropping anything else.

 

“I’m terribly sorry!,” Dick breathed out into the receiver, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Okay, Mrs. Sutton? Okay, the meeting will have to be after lunch on the 23th, once Mr. Todd is back from his morning at court. Yes. Yes, I’ll pencil you in. Oh — oh yes, I’m new. Was it that obvious? Oh. Oh yes of course, I’m really very sorry Mrs. Sutton. Are we clear on the meeting then? uh — yes. 3pm is perfect. Alright. You’re very kind, thank you. Good day.”

 

The click the phone made falling back on its cradle echoed loudly in the office as Dick reluctantly looked back up into his boss’ stony-faced expression.

 

“Uhm. Sorry. G- good morning? That — that was —” Dick tried, but Mr. Todd scoffed, shutting the heavy wooden doors behind him with a slam that made Dick jump in his chair, eyes wide as Mr. Todd eyed him critically.

 

“That was Mrs. Sutton rescheduling. Yes, Mr. Grayson, I gathered that much, thank you.” Mr. Todd barked, tone sharp and cutting. As far as the first words from his superior for the day went, they were very far from the best start.

 

Dick tried not to shrink back as Mr. Todd stalked closer to his desk, frown still very prominent in his youthful face, glasses askew on his nose as he stared down at Dick in silence, a storm brewing somewhere in his eyes. Dick felt himself sweat under his shirt from the weight of the gaze alone, and couldn’t hold his boss’ eyes for long, staring miserably at the top of his desk instead.

 

“Is that display I just walked into the way you have been speaking with my clients and colleagues, Mr. Grayson?” Mr. Todd finally asked, but gave Dick no time to respond. “That manner of address I just heard was unacceptably casual. Unprofessional. I expect you to rectify that this instant if you aim to stay inside this office.”

 

“Uh —I —I’m sorry?” Dick stuttered, aghast at the thought he would be fired from one bad phone call, but before he could think of any excuse, Mr. Todd was slamming his heavy briefcase right into Dick’s desk, scattering loose leaves of paper and making Dick’s heart jump up into his throat.

 

“No.” Mr. Todd said, voice just as commanding, and Dick stared helplessly up at him, unsure what was expected of him.  

 

“Try again. You address me, your boss, as?” Mr. Todd exaggerated expectant expression made Dick want to die on the spot.

 

“Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” Dick answered softly, choking on shame, but Mr. Todd was far from finished.

 

“Correct address. Wrong tone. Try again. You are my _professional_ assistant, are you not Mr. Grayson?”

 

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” Dick repeated dutifully, trying to get his voice to be louder, more sure, but Mr. Todd was already tsking at him, making Dick’s eyes sting, which only made him more embarrassed at himself and the situation. Humiliation burned bright as his boss stared him down.

 

“Professional, Mr. Grayson. That means, above all, calm and in control. Take a deep breath now.” Mr. Todd demanded and Dick obeyed mindlessly, breathing in and out, then again at another gesture from his boss. “Good. Now, professional voice. Confident, even, easy to understand. Modulate your register. You are here to assist the callers, the clients, me as well, are you not?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Dick answered promptly, trying to breathe evenly and will away his nerves.

 

“Better. Now, since you are here to assist, you must always sound pleasant. Let’s try our greetings again, hmm? Good morning Mister Grayson.”

 

“Good morning Mister Todd.” Dick tried, as calmly and pleasantly as he could sound, scrambling to read Mr. Todd’s face for any sign of approval. There was no change to his boss’ expression, but he gave a curt nod even as those teal eyes seemed to narrow and run down Dick’s face with an almost physical intensity.

 

“Better. Keep practicing now, how must you answer the office phone?” Mr. Todd prodded, seemingly set on dragging Dick’s torture out and Dick swallowed hard, trying not to look away from that scrutinizing stare.

 

“Good morning. Office of Jason Peter Todd, attorney at law. Richard speaking, may I ask who is calling?” Dick recited from memory, having spent over an hour each night practicing the greeting after too many mistakes made during his first week on the job. When Mr. Todd nodded at him, raising his eyebrows expectantly, Dick continued with the learned script. “How may I help you today?”

 

Dick breathed deep again, vaguely aware that his hands were gripping the leather of his office chair for dear life beneath his desk. He did his best to hide any tremor on his voice from the real terror that one wrong sound would mean he was fired. Holding the stare his boss seemed to be eager to drill into his skull felt almost impossibly difficult, but Dick was too scared to look away from it.

 

“Alright Mister Grayson, that is the professional voice I expect to hear from you from now on while on duty, is that understood?” Mr. Todd demanded and Dick nodded frantically, only to wince and hurriedly give the proper reply in the proper voice at his boss’ returning frown.

 

“Yes Sir, Mr. Todd. I apologize, Sir.” Dick assured him, holding very still as Mr. Todd finally lifted his briefcase again and stepped back from Dick’s desk, moving to head into his own inner office.

 

“You’ll find the manual for the phone you’re in charge of in the third drawer of your desk, Mister Grayson.” His boss calmly informed him, stopping in the threshold of his office with his broad back to Dick’s horrified expression. “You will read that during every spare moment today, including your lunch hour. At the end of the day, you’ll demonstrate to me that you can handle that much. And should I ever see you fail to put a caller on hold properly again, you will be fired on the spot, is that clear?”

 

“Yes, Sir. Crystal clear, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” Dick tried to offer again, but Mr. Todd didn’t acknowledge him, calmly shutting the door to his inner office behind him with a final click.

 

In the resulting silence left in his wake, Dick let his head fall heavily onto his desk with a thud he felt resonate through his skull. He told himself the tears he had to blink away were from the pain of the hit, and not the burning, nauseating shame he felt at what had just taken place.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

“You’re the image I present to the clients outside those wooden doors,” Mr. Todd expression didn’t change, tone mild and unconcerned, but his intense judging stare had Dick frozen on the spot, face heating with a rising blush. Something like shame swirled in his gut, though Dick wasn’t even sure why. “You’re the first thing they see. The first voice they hear when they want to reach me. So,”

 

Mr. Todd stood from behind his desk, impeccable suit highlighting his toned frame as he walked closer to where Dick stood fidgeting, trying to hold those eyes with his, unsure of where to put his hands.

 

“We’re going to have to work together to make sure you present my clients with perfection, Mr. Grayson.” Mr. Todd finished, standing now, still studying Dick’s frame with a barely there frown. “Stand up straight.”

 

Dick did, swallowing hard. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been slouching any, but his posture went rigid at his boss’ barked order and his shoulders snapped up.

 

“Good,” Mr. Todd said and Dick went to say something, but the next order came before he could. “No, close your mouth. The chatter is another thing we’re going to be working on, but not today. Eyes forward, Mr. Grayson. Spread your feet wider apart, shoulder-length. Good. Arms at your back.”

 

Dick did, feeling his pulse race with uncertainty and an urgent need to get this right, to get his boss to seem pleased for once with something Dick did.

 

Mr. Todd studied him for long dragging moments before one of his big hands reached out to pull on a few strands of hair falling over Dick’s cheekbone. Dick felt himself twitch at the action, and tried not to cringe when he heard Mr. Todd make that small disappointed hmm Dick had gotten so used to.

 

“After work today, you’re getting your hair cut. Go to South Point’s 7th Avenue, find Emile’s Salon and tell the receptionist that I sent you. Nothing more.”

 

Dick’s eyes flew wide and he made eye-contact with Jason without meaning to, his lips parted to protest, but one look at Jason’s pointed expression had him slowly shut his mouth again, feeling small and useless.

 

He’d just been told to keep his mouth shut, after all. Maybe Mr. Todd was right about Dick losing track of directions.

 

“After that, you grab a cab and go straight home, where you’ll shower and toss that shirt and tie you’re wearing now in the trash. Tomorrow I expect you to look the part of my serious, professional employee, is that clear?”

 

A part of Dick wanted to protest. A haircut, okay, fine, he could do that. But there was nothing wrong with his shirt, his tie was fun, why would he need to get rid of them even if he wasn’t allowed to use them in the office anymore? But the heavy silence in the office made it clear that Mr. Todd expected an answer, and what else was Dick supposed to do here?  He nodded shortly after a pause, fighting the urge to fidget again.

 

“Repeat what I just said. What are you doing today after work?”

 

God, another test. Dick had been paying attention! He was just surprised, is all. Mr. Todd had to know Dick had been listening.

 

“I-I don’t-” Dick began, voice low and unsure, but the hand that had yet to let go of his hair pulled on the strands slightly and made Dick look at his boss in the eye again.  

 

“We had this conversation yesterday, Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd said, stern and intense, seeming closer than before. Dick had a sudden vivid flashback to how he’d touched himself to the memory of that conversation the night before, and desperately hoped the expensive carpet under his feet would swallow him whole. “Professional voice, now. Stand how I said, eyes forward. Now what are you doing after work, Mr. Grayson?”

 

“Going to Emile’s Salon on South Point’s 7th Avenue for my haircut, Sir,” Dick answered as evenly as he could, trying to project his voice in the tone Mr. Todd had demanded of him the day before. Professional, assured, but always pleasant.

 

“Good. Then what?” Mr. Todd prodded, finally moving back from Dick and giving him back his space. Dick wanted to sway from the sudden lack of warmth in his proximity, from how spacious the office suddenly seemed to him without Jason Todd stealing his air, but he stood straight and still.

 

“Taking a cab home to shower, Sir,” Dick recited dutifully, willing the blush he could feel in his face to recede now that Mr. Todd’s back was to him as walked back behind his desk, to no avail. “Uh, and- and tossing my shirt and tie and wearing better ones tomorrow.”

 

“You’ll be waiting for me right where you are now first thing in the morning,” Mr. Todd said, sitting back down behind his tower of files and picking one up from the top, his eyes sliding away from Dick’s stiff posture. “I’ll determine if what you chose to wear is fitting or not and evaluate your new haircut. I expect my coffee to be hot on my desk when I walk in and for my professional assistant to be in position. Am I clear, Mr. Grayson?”

 

“Yes Sir,” Dick bit out, fisting his hands behind his back and wanting to slump to the ground. He couldn’t believe he kept disappointing his boss when his job was so simple. Maybe Bruce was right about him after all, and he wasn’t meant to be working outside of his adoptive father’s influence. “Will that be all?”

 

“Not at all,” Mr. Todd said, shocking Dick out of his self-recriminations to steal a look at him. His boss wasn’t looking back at him, leaning back on his monstrous leather chair and idly scribbling notes on a legal notepad. “As I told you yesterday, Mr. Grayson, I expect to keep track of your progress. I’d like proof that I’ve hired a hard worker. You’ll practice your professional position where you are now. You can walk back to your desk at 10:45am and resume your other duties.”

 

Dick stared at his unconcerned figure for long seconds, and when no other word was forthcoming, turned his wide eyes to the clock on Mr. Todd desk. It was 9:03am. But Mr. Todd never joked and Dick knew better than to question him by now when he gave out his directions.

 

He’d told Dick every day since he’d hired him: Dick’s job was to accommodate Mr. Todd’s demands and be an asset in whatever task he was set on. So if practicing standing still and silent for over an hour like Mr. Todd wanted him was his assignment, Dick had no choice in the matter but to do his best at it and hope it was enough.

 

God, was this all that Dick was good for?

 

It was a terrible realization to have while standing in his boss’ office, being for all purposes ignored. He’d proven so useless that his boss had taken it upon himself to teach Dick the most basic of things, despite his busy schedule. Instead of assisting him properly and relieving some of his workload as he’d vowed to do, Dick had ended up making someone important like Jason Todd take time out of his day to give Dick lessons on how to speak and how to stand and how to dress.

 

The very least Dick could do was comply and do his best to learn, no matter how humiliating the experience was for him.

 

Dick grimaced to himself and did his best to breathe deeply, self-consciously feeling his weight shift from one left to the other before he tried to focus on maintaining a more balanced stance. He squeezed his fingers behind his back for something to do, but worried the movement could be seen in his arms or shoulders and stopped doing it.

 

Look professional, Mr. Todd had told him. He was standing here, practicing looking professional for his boss. Shoulders back, legs spread shoulder-length, arms behind his back, eyes forward. Dick bit back a sigh and held still, feeling shame wrap around him at the thought of what Bruce would say if he saw him now.

 

The only sound in the office was the slow turning of paper as Mr. Todd carried on working on his files, occasionally fidgeting with his glasses on the corner of Dick’s vision. Dick’s eyes remained trained in front of him, staring blankly at the books in the shelves behind Jason, absently counting them and noticing the colors of the leather bindings, the impeccable dust-free surfaces, the occasional knick knack breaking up the rows.

 

When the phone rang, loud and shrill from Dick’s desk outside the office, Dick felt his entire body jerk in surprise at the sudden burst of noise, only to then stiffen in alarm. It was his job to answer, his main responsibility, but Mr. Todd had told him to stand there and practice and Dick was torn, frozen in indecision.

 

Mr. Todd didn’t spare Dick a glance as he stood from his desk mid-second ring, calmly stretching his neck as he moved around his desk. The man walked past Dick to the outer office, leaving him standing where he was, tense and ready, facing Mr. Todd’s desk as he heard him answer the call himself. Another responsibility Dick wasn’t fulfilling because he kept screwing up his job.

 

The clock showed 9:57am by the time Mr. Todd walked past him again, to settle at his desk and pick up a new file. Dick’s muscles ached with tension and the weariness of standing so long, but he refused to relax his position, less he slip up in even this much.

 

Watching Mr. Todd take calls and work notes in front of him, unconcerned with Dick’s presence, made knots of tension build up inside Dick’s chest. It made Dick determined to do right and prove to Mr. Todd that he could, at the same time it made him feel insignificant and foolish, a boy playing at being useful. But Dick’s task was so simple, and he refused to fail again.

 

His back and legs ached as time crawled by, but Dick didn’t waver. He tried to keep his face impassive and calm, like he was sure Mr. Todd wanted it, but he knew he probably looked flushed and nervous and it made him ashamed. He had so little control over himself that his boss had to take over. Scrambling to keep his mind on task, Dick guiltily stole another glance at his boss’ relaxed face of concentration, before training his eyes on his long hands, which had moved on to typing steadily on his work computer.

 

They were broad and beautiful, but they didn’t look like the hands of a man who had never known physical labor like Dick would have expected a high-end lawyer to own. They seemed roughened and some faint pale scars littered the skin, mostly around the fingers and knuckles.

 

Dick tried not to wonder about it, yanking his thoughts back from imagining Mr. Todd getting into fights, perfectly suited form throwing rough punches. He didn’t need the mental images of that large, built form moving in violence, powerful arms making short work of hypothetical opponents.

 

Dick shifted his weight again, taking a shaky deep breath to clear his mind from that useless train of thought. Mr. Todd didn’t need his stupid useless assistant hopelessly crushing after him on top of everything else, Dick told himself sternly. But the self-loathing did little to calm Dick’s wandering imagination of himself apologizing to his imposing boss for his failures in some _other_ way —

 

“Mr. Grayson,”

 

Dick snapped his eyes up, terrified he’d slipped from his pose and disappointed Mr. Todd yet again. However, when his eyes met his boss’, Mr. Todd was smiling at him gently, something bright and pleased in his gaze that Dick had never put there before, and the sight stole the words from him.

 

“You did perfectly,” Mr. Todd told Dick, and his voice was low and warm. The words themselves felt like nirvana through Dick’s veins as his eyes automatically sought out the clock by Mr. Todd’s elbow. 10:45am it read.

 

Dick had really done it. He’d done something _right_.

 

Dick smiled shakily at his boss, shivers racing down his aching shoulders as he managed a stupid little nod in response. His throat felt tight with the unravelling anxiety of having completed a task to his demanding superior’s satisfaction.

 

“Very good job. Go drink a glass of water and then I want you sitting at your desk in 5 minutes. You’ll answer my e-mails first, then start making the calls for the day. Dismissed.”

 

Dick’s automatic “Yes, Sir” slipped out of numb lips, and only once his back was turned away from Mr. Todd’s large desk did Dick let his face grimace. His voice sounded dry and raspy, like standing there like a chump for a while had drained him dry, how embarrassing.

 

Grateful for his clear fresh instructions, Dick found himself standing by the small office kitchenette’s sink in a haze, dutifully drinking his allotted glass of water despite his shaking fingers.

 

He’d pleased Mr. Todd today, Dick thought, trying to focus on the high of that accomplishment and not on the embarrassingly small scale of it.

 

He’d done it perfectly, Mr. Todd had said. Perfect.

 

Dick could do this job right, whatever Bruce thought. All he had to do was take it one small step at a time, and trust Mr. Todd to correct him when he failed. If Dick could only learn fast enough, then Mr. Todd would not get tired of him just yet and Dick would be able to be useful.

 

10:50am sharp found Dick sitting at his desk with as perfect a posture as he could manage, eagerly opening his pending e-mails for the day, determination burning in his chest and keeping Dick’s head up.

 

Mr. Todd had given him his tasks, and now Dick knew what it felt like to meet his expectations. Dick tried not to worry about how monumental that still felt to him, how much his heart raced at the thought of putting that pleased look in those intense eyes again.

 

Maybe Dick Grayson would never be a perfect assistant, but he’d had the good luck to land himself a good boss. It was only right that he do his best to at least become someone Mr. Todd could be proud of, that was all.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

That evening was a surreal experience for Dick.

 

Taking a cab to the opposite side of town from home, just to get a haircut at some high-end salon Dick wouldn’t normally step a foot in, all on the word of his boss. Getting there, seeing the place and feeling his heart race as the receptionist went from eyeing him like he was a sewer rat that had walked in, to beaming and treating him with kid gloves when he said who had sent him in.

 

The haircut was an experience on itself, getting manhandled from one stylist to another and spoken about over his head as the salon staff chattered about Jason Todd and Dick’s silky locks and what a tragedy it was that Dick hadn’t been seen in there before.

 

Dick sat numbly through most of it, though the scalp massage he received before the actual cut had him fighting back the urge to moan in a decidedly inappropriate fashion. Perfumed products were poured all over him while the man currently running gloved fingers through Dick’s hair praised him about his skin, and asked awkward questions about his family that Dick mostly shrugged off.

 

When it was done, Dick stared at himself in an oversized mirror, blinking in bewilderment at the beaming woman behind him, who was more or less showing him off to her colleagues and the occasional salon patron like she’d built Dick out of clay herself.

 

The entire thing was mortifying and oddly flattering in a way Dick couldn’t quite put words to, and meeting his own bared eyes in the mirror didn’t help him much. His hair looked amazing, modern and neat, his bangs carefully molded to stop hiding so much of his features, but his expression was just as lost as Dick was, trying to see why Mr. Todd had thought this bizarre exercise was necessary at all.

 

It was still Dick Grayson staring back in the mirror, with all his anxieties and insecurities underneath a styled haircut.

 

Still, he thanked everyone for the kind treatment. He stood to leave, getting as far as making a grab for his wallet before one of the people who had washed his hair and practically melted Dick into putty with his hands, cheerfully waved Dick off and started walking him to the door, not letting him get a word in.

 

Trying to argue about payment proved futile. The man so effectively distracted Dick with his joyful flirting, that he found himself standing outside some time later with the man’s — Brian, it turned out  — phone number in his dress shirt front pocket, not having paid a dime.

 

After the third time he tried to go back in to pay, only to end up outside again with all his money and someone else’s phone number, Dick had to concede defeat. Rather than bother Alfred, he called an Uber to get home, grateful that the driver wasn’t the chatty type.

 

It was only upon getting home late and heading mechanically into his bedroom, that Dick realized he wasn’t done for the day yet. The thought sent a wave of heat down Dick’s spine.

 

Dick still had orders to follow, and he was unconsciously fulfilling them; already stripping for a shower that he wouldn’t normally take upon first getting home without stopping by to greet his family or grab some dinner.

 

But Mr. Todd had been very clear that morning: Haircut, cab, home, shower, toss his clothes.

 

The memory of those directions made Dick’s face burn, slowly spreading fire engine red through his skin that Dick watched spread in the bathroom’s mirror. His wide-eyed reflection stared back dumbly as the vivid details of that morning played out through Dick’s mind.

 

He remembered himself, standing still and quiet for hours in front of his boss’ desk, being blatantly ignored while the work day went on as usual, as if Dick had become a piece of decor in that antiqued office for as long as Mr. Todd demanded it.  

 

The tension in Dick’s frame had lingered for hours afterward, muscles aching from dutifully holding his position at attention, from the tense expectation of failing again and being told off. Dick remembered his own determination holding him firm, the humiliation of needing to be taught even how to stand, but most of all, the crowning moment: that pleased gleam in Jason Todd’s eyes when they looked at Dick, the exhilaration of hearing confirmation of his success.

 

The empowering realization that Dick had done that. Dick had finally pleased Mr. Todd. Dick _could_ please him.

 

“Oh,” Dick murmured, blinking down at himself where he was unbuttoning his pants. He was getting _hard_. Gosh, that was embarrassing. It wasn’t even like Mr. Todd had ever given him any indication of interest. If anything, half the time the man barely tolerated Dick’s presence without needing to correct something about him.

 

Dick made a face at himself in the mirror and turned the shower on, mechanically stepping inside and letting the warm water relax his muscles, trying to clear his mind.

 

A stupid bodily reaction, that’s all it was. He shouldn’t have masturbated in bed at the thought of Jason Todd making Dick call him Sir and instructing him on how to speak the night before, and Dick shouldn’t indulge in any more fantasies about what happened at the office.

 

He knew better than to get himself infatuated over someone as demanding and distant as his boss. Dick knew bad relationships were the standard in his life, the memory of the breakups, of the disappointment in Bab’s and Kory’s faces dimming his mood and crashlanding him back in reality. The ghost of Catalina’s sharp smile made him shudder and briskly struggle to break off the train of thought.

 

Reaching for the soap, Dick sighed, sick of deluding himself with his make-believe scenarios of how right things could be.

 

Dick wasn’t relationship material, he knew that. Dick was hardly employee material either. He was the guy that needed to speak clearer, type faster, spell better, concentrate harder, stand straighter, dress differently. Dick was a project, an eternal work in progress of a man that needed smart, capable people like Mr. Todd, Alfred, Bruce, hell, even Tim and Damian to keep him on task.

 

_“You did perfectly.”_

 

Dick’s breath hitched at the memory, eyes burning at the stupid, blind joy that raced through him at those words. He tried to soap himself up quick, to stop thinking about it, but Dick’s own hands reaching down to soap up his midsection and his privates made him hesitate, eyeing his half-interested cock like it belonged to someone else.

 

_“Very good job.”_

 

Dick bit his lip, hesitatingly grabbing a hold of himself with his still soapy hand. It was just taking the edge off. It didn’t mean anything. Masturbating in the shower was more efficient anyway, cleaner. It wasn’t about Dick’s boss, it didn’t have to be.

 

_“Now, what are you going to do after work, Mr. Grayson?”_

 

Dick bit back a moan, palming his rising erection a little more harshly, pulling lazily a couple of times and twisting his wrist in a well practiced motion. His other hand was already moving to his nipples, pulling on them clumsily with his thumb, then scratching at the peaked nub with his nails, aching for more sensation, more friction, more, more, more.

 

_“We’re going to have to work together to make sure you present my clients with perfection, Mr. Grayson.”_

 

Dick tightened his grip on his cock, slowly playing with the head. The heat built up in Dick’s gut like a wave, a sudden haze of need urging him to increase his pace and the roughness of his strokes, leaning against the cold shower wall with a whine.

 

His hands felt like they weren’t large enough, rough enough, _good_ enough to reach all the places Dick needed them to reach, his body tingling as he tried to imagine someone else’s touch, long ink stained fingers grabbing for him and directing where and how to touch.

 

_“No.”_

_“Try again.”_

_“Keep practicing.”_

 

Dick squeezed brutally at his left nipple until it _burned_ , desperately hoping the water would muffle the sounds he kept making as he played with himself, hands clumsy and desperate as they sought to build up momentum with no regard to finesse .

 

Closing his eyes, Dick visualized himself as he’d been this morning, at attention for Mr. Todd, on display, on task. But instead of the clothes he’d worn, Dick saw himself naked, hard, obscene, as his boss nonchalantly took a work call in front of him, eyes skipping right past Dick’s desperation, deaf to his pleading noises, expecting Dick to deliver what he demanded without question.

 

Dick thought of those eyes, dead set on Dick’s, brimming with approval.

 

_“You did perfectly.”_

 

Dick moaned too loudly, desperately leaning his limp weight against the wall for balance as he felt climax steal through him in a rush, blurring his fantasy away. Dick felt his release splatter all over his stomach and chest and numbly watched it be washed away with half open eyes, lips parted in pants he couldn’t quite slow down. He didn’t let his cock get fully soft before he mechanically reached out to pinch the skin behind his sack, making his hips jerk at the stimulation.  

 

That familiar painful jolt brought Dick back to awareness as he washed his skin free of the last of his release, reaching out to wipe some away from the shower wall. He thought about dousing himself in cold water then, make himself shudder, but ultimately decided not to.

 

Self-consciously shutting off the water, Dick took a second to listen to the room outside the bathroom. He’d probably been loud enough that someone coming by to check on him wasn’t out of the question, but thankfully there was no sign that his long shower had drawn any attention from the manor’s other occupants.

 

With a sigh, Dick stepped out, leaning on the towel rack for balance on shaky legs. He sat at the edge of his tub to scrub himself dry, rubbing his skin with rough swipes of his overly large towel as he eyed the pile of clothes he’d discarded earlier on the bathroom floor.

 

Alfred would surely ask him why Dick was binning them after just a few wears. Bruce regularly donated his barely worn designer suits, always concerned with his public image; but Dick had never been the type to circle through possessions in the same way. Maybe he could stain the shirt or rip the cloth?  

 

The thought made Dick frown to himself, suddenly anxious again. He didn’t like the thought of needing to lie like that just for doing as he was told. Surely Alfred would get that Dick had to follow his boss’ directions regarding proper office attire. It wasn’t that strange.

 

Dick could even tell Alfred about that morning, no big deal. He’d mention Mr. Todd’s orders, and talk about standing in that office in nervous silence, about the precise set of directions Dick had received on what he should do today.

 

Dick could talk to Alfred about the calm, settled feeling that had risen in Dick’s chest at knowing exactly what to do for once. He could share the thrill he’d felt at being praised genuinely for the first time in so long, the burning determination to earn that feeling again, to do right by Mr. Todd, to be good for —

 

“Christ,” Dick moaned to himself, shame making him feel shaky and wrong-footed.

 

Considering what he’d just been doing to the memory his _boss_ giving Dick simple orders like he was too incompetent to know what to do without them  — and Dick _was_ , which was the worst part of it all  — Dick already knew he wouldn’t speak about it with Alfred or anyone at all.

 

Which still left the dilemma of what to say about his clothes. Dick could always choose not to toss them and simply not wear them to the office any longer. It’d be easier, nothing to explain away, and Mr. Todd would have no way of knowing that Dick had disobeyed him.

 

But just the thought of doing that left Dick cold and sick. He struggled to imagine standing in front of Mr. Todd’s implacable gaze and lying well enough to get away with it. There was no way. Dick would be caught out, and he’d have to see disappointment flood that attractive face again because of Dick. Hell, he might even be fired for being unable to do as he was told when left to his own devices.

 

No. Dick didn’t owe anyone explanations. Dick was an adult. An adult that needed someone else to make the decisions, to set the expectations and keep Dick accountable for them, maybe, but an adult in the end. Ultimately, it was Dick’s choice whether or not to comply to his boss’ demands.

 

Standing, Dick refused to agonize about any of it further. He grabbed the bundle of clothes he’d worn that day and threw the entire wad into the garbage bin.

 

Mr. Todd had told him what to do, and Dick would do it. It was that simple.

 

Naked, Dick walked out of the bathroom and threw himself on the bed, curling up under the covers and giving up on eating dinner altogether, too worn out to bother.

 

Dick’s body still felt heavy after orgasm, warm and loose. It felt glorious to let go of the tension Dick had been holding in his muscles the entire day. All the day’s stress and anxiety bled out of him as he lay there and stared at his wall in the dark.

 

Dick had done his job for the day. He’d fulfilled all of his assigned tasks, and tomorrow he’d try to meet Mr. Todd’s expectations again, one small thing at a time. Because Dick wanted to do that, and because today, Dick had proved that he could.

 

If Dick fell asleep smiling that night, it was nobody’s business but Dick’s own.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

The click of the heavy wooden office doors outside and the unhurried steps of his boss the next morning found Dick standing carefully at attention in his appointed position. Not a hair was out of place on him; he wore new, freshly ironed clothes and a fast, terrified heartbeat hidden in his chest.

 

Mr. Todd took his time in the outer office, muffled sounds of shuffling papers and the thud of his heavy briefcase being set down as he removed his outer coat by the door reaching Dick’s attuned senses. Then, without further ceremony ,the man himself walked into his inner sanctuary and went about his daily routine without sparing him a glance. He shut the door, calmly walked past Dick’s position to set his briefcase down on his desk and carefully examined both the mail Dick had laid out for him and the files he’d requested the day before, perusing everything with a critical gaze that made Dick’s skin break out in goosebumps.

 

Mr. Todd took his time reading and rearranging the papers, then took out his laptop and set it up. The only sound in the room were the ones Mr. Todd made as he arranged his environment to his satisfaction. When he reached out to grip the coffee cup Dick had brought in for him, piping hot, he took a long drink and only then did he raise his gaze to Dick’s; the eye-contact froze Dick to resemble a statue, while Mr. Todd swallowed his mouthful without a change in expression.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd drawled after a prolonged staring contest that Dick lost about 4 times before it was over.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Todd.” Dick carefully modulated his voice to the tone his boss preferred, having practiced all the way to the office with Alfred’s somewhat bemused blessing.

 

Mr. Todd took another sip of his coffee, then set the mug down with a heavy sound that made Dick twitch before he controlled his expression again to be attentive and calm. Then the man divested himself of his suit jacket to hang it behind his desk chair, still studying Dick critically.

 

When he walked steadily closer, Dick felt his breathing stop. His eyes snapped away from his boss’ and stared down at his shoes by reflex. He heard the other man approach him from the front, then carefully turn in a circle around Dick’s position, undoubtedly judging the extent of Dick’s fulfillment of his bosses’ demands.

 

By the time Dick saw Mr. Todd impeccable dress shoes stop directly in front of him once again, Dick’s entire face felt flushed and sweaty and his chest was burning, tight with fear and lack of air.

 

When a big hand suddenly gripped Dick’s jaw, he couldn’t have repressed his gasp for oxygen even if he’d tried to. The hand found no resistance in raising Dick’s head up to make him meet Mr. Todd’s gaze, far closer than Dick had ever seen it before.

 

There were lines near the man’s eyes, faint enough to be barely visible, a sign of strain in such a young face that dumbfounded Dick for long enough that he almost didn’t notice his boss’ small smile.

 

Almost. But when Dick saw it, he felt it like a burst of sunshine filling up his blood, elation racing through him at the thought of having put that sign of pleasure there, however he’d managed it.

 

“That shirt is an improvement, Mr. Grayson.” The smell of Mr. Todd’s aftershave brushed Dick’s nose when the man leaned closer, his free hand moving up and grasping the collar of Dick’s shirt and drawing it back some, as if to look at the tag on it. “Tomorrow, you’ll wear one a size smaller than this one. You’ll shine your shoes better. And try again with the tie, that color clashes with your complexion.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” Dick said lowly, afraid to disturb the moment, painfully aware of his blushing face still being held up in his boss’ hand. Mr. Todd’s skin was cold, but quickly warming against Dick’s, and Dick stupidly thought that if he could warm up both his boss’ hands with his embarrassment, then wearing it so obviously maybe wasn’t so bad.

 

“I’ll have to thank Eli for his work, that hair is looking much better,” Mr. Todd hummed, making no move to step away. Dick— bravely, in his own opinion — resisted the impulse to lean in to his touch. “Straighten up, you’re slumping your back again. Remove that tie now, pop open your first collar button. You’ll be allowed to look more informal today.”

 

The now warmer hand retreated abruptly, but Mr. Todd stood expectantly in place, close enough that Dick could smell his skin, soap and aftershave both, the slight tint of coffee on his breath hovering in the air between them. Dick’s hands were shaking when he brought them forward from their rigid position at his back and did as he was told under that dark gaze, awkwardly left holding his tie as he awaited his next instruction.

 

“Wear tighter trousers as well, Mr. Grayson.” Mr. Todd said, and Dick knew he must be purple by now if the way his face felt was any indication.

 

Still, he nodded dutifully and was rewarded with another slight twitch in Mr. Todd’s carefully blank expression, something almost hungry that was hidden away as fast as Dick thought he saw it.

 

“Good. You’ll use that ugly tie you’re holding to clean the window in your outer office today. Put it in your back pocket for now.” Dick did so, trying to breathe as Mr. Todd finally took a step back and pointed idly to the corner. “Drag that chair over there to my side now. You’ll watch as I correct your mistakes in those files you left out and thank me for it, how does that sound?”

 

Humiliating beyond belief.  Which is why Dick had to look down at his shoes again in shame, not of his failures this time, but of the burn of arousal he felt at the words, at the slightly mocking tone, at knowing he’d do everything Mr. Todd demanded and be genuinely grateful, which was almost more degrading than having to fake the emotion.

 

“It sounds good Mr. Todd,” Dick managed to whisper, then closed his eyes and repeated it louder in his professional voice at Mr. Todd pointed throat clearing. “Thank you Sir.”

 

“That’s a start. Get moving Mr. Grayson, daylight’s wasting and I have an appointment with a new client in an hour. You’ll be sitting in and taking notes for me.”

 

Dick swiftly moved to do as a he was bid, feeling his boss’ stare heavy on his back the entire time. He tried to breathe and pinched his own thigh harshly to get his body to settle down, but the pain did nothing to ease the pooling warmth stuck low in his gut.

 

In the end Dick had to hold an open folder over his lap for the entire 40 minutes he spent thanking Mr. Todd for every page he was handed back with bold red pen corrections and annotations he’d have to redo later that day. He did his best to sit still and at attention, but he feared he looked as guilty and restless as he felt, body flinching every time his boss’ fingers brushed Dick’s.

 

“You seem to be finally learning, Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd informed him after dismissing him from his side, his attention already fixed on the screen of his laptop instead of on Dick. Thankfully, that meant he most likely missed Dick’s stumble against the doorway at the unexpected praise. “I expect to see only improvement from a hard worker such as yourself.”

 

Dick dutifully thanked him again before carefully closing the door behind himself, staring blankly at his untouched desk for a long minute.

 

Had Mr. Todd just mocked Dick’s physical response to him, or was Dick reading too much into the man’s words?

 

The thought haunted Dick for the rest of the workday, and by the time he’d fulfilled all his daily tasks and bid his boss good night, he’d found no answer would make Dick’s stupid fantasies any less shameful.

 

The very idea that Mr. Todd knew about Dick’s stupid infatuation had him tossing and turning that night, torn between dread — that he had been mocked for indulging such fantasies —  and the traitorous, ridiculous spark of hope that wanted to bloom inside Dick’s chest at the lack of a clear rejection from the other man.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

By the third month of Dick’s employment, all hope of sanity and self-restraint had long been abandoned.

 

By then, everyone in his family and small circle of acquaintances had scolded Dick for wearing too tight clothing to work, for staying too late at the office, for being spacey at home too often and for his sudden out-of-character preoccupation with his appearance.

 

Dick had tried to explain, at first, that Mr. Todd had a certain image to uphold in his office and Dick was now a part of it; the piercing, worried look Bruce had shot him at the words, the awkward interrogation he’d had to endure at dinner in front of his silent, frowning siblings had silenced Dick’s attempts at justifying himself after that.

 

Dick didn’t feel truly guilty for any of it. He was meeting every demand Mr. Todd imposed on him, and the daily insults he earned had diminished increasingly as the weeks went by, a lowly goal that still filled Dick with pride.

 

He was happy to go to work in the mornings, happy to stand at attention for inspection and instructions, happy to receive corrections and to do his best at every outrageous new task.

 

The standard work of any assistant had become easier with practice, but Mr. Todd kept Dick on his toes every day; the man could ask Dick for anything at any time. The demands went from making the office spotless, to buying and watering plants, moving furniture around, cleaning all the windows, shining his boss’ shoes, go out and buy new socks to change into, guessing the man’s favorite lunch order at random places, sending Dick across town with a time limit to make it back, search for a missing cufflink on hands and knees for half an hour only to find it in a desk drawer and even categorizing every pen, post-it, and folder in the office by color, all performed under the strict supervision of Mr. Todd’s piercing stare.

 

As a result, Dick’s dreams had become confusing reels of mundane chores and ghostly fantasies of being touched or naked in the acts, all of which were dominated by his boss’ imposing presence and direction, even in Dick’s head.

 

He woke up hard more often these days than Dick had since he’d been sixteen. He'd even had to resort to jerking himself off in the office bathroom once or twice to relieve the shameful ache he lived with during the day. Every time that happened, Dick couldn’t meet Mr. Todd’s eyes for days.

 

His daydreaming was admittedly out of control. Yet, while Dick was aware of the depth of pathetic pining he’d succumbed to, he’d come to terms with the harmless nature of the fantasy.

 

Truth was, Dick was functional and holding a job. He was out of the house on a daily basis and he’d stopped obsessing about his own sadness and worthlessness in favor of visualizing dark teal eyes shining with approval, the hardened lines of a youthful stern face softening into a smile, or how those long fingered hands would feel if they tangled themselves into Dick’s hair.

 

It was a victimless infraction, nothing of worth. So what if he pined away for someone who would never consider him in that light? It was hardly sexual to long for approval, even if arousal for Dick had become entangled in the low tones of his boss’ stern voice. Nobody needed to know that. Even if Mr. Todd did know, he’d done nothing to indicate he cared one way or another.

 

Dick could live like this, he could. He could make his hopeless chasing the center of his days, and he did so effortlessly. The only cost was ignoring the criticism he received from his loved ones about some of his resulting decisions.

 

But Dick had forgotten just who his family was, and how used they’d become to Dick dancing to their tune, and not any outsider’s.

 

He was unpleasantly reminded of that on a Tuesday, staring blankly up at his father and younger brother standing in front of his work desk, impeccably dressed in their bespoke suits in expectant silence.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to greet us cordially and inform your boss of our arrival, Dick?” Tim prompted with raised eyebrows, a glint in his eyes that Dick knew better than to trust. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble for not following the rules. I hear Mr. Todd is a stickler for those.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Dick half hissed, half demanded. He sent a wild-eyed look over his shoulder like Mr. Todd could have materialized behind his chair in the minute he’d spent staring open-mouthed at his family members invading his work space with no forewarning.

 

“Visiting my brother’s workplace, of course,” Tim assured him sweetly, his casual posture at odds with the way he was monitoring Dick’s reactions carefully. His poker face revealed nothing of what he saw there, and Bruce’s stony countenance didn’t move an inch when Dick turned his incredulous eyes to his.

 

“We’re your twelve o’clock meeting. Well, your boss’ meeting.” Tim helpfully informed him when the silence dragged on, pointing a pale hand at Dick’s carefully handwritten daily schedule. There, an appointment for a Mr. Knox was penciled in for noon, a moniker Bruce claimed with a dismissive hand-wave when Dick demanded a reason for the deception.

 

“I did tell him he should at least warn you this morning at breakfast,” Tim supplied, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels when Dick glared at him. The little bastard was still smiling. “But then he said you ran out without a word to anyone but Alfred and didn’t sit down to eat anything.”

 

“Again,” Bruce cut in, sounding displeased. Dick fought back the urge to curl in and apologize for it, because Mr. Todd had left him a voicemail the night before demanding Dick be at the office an hour before the usual time to transcribe a deposition and there’d been no choice in the matter. Nor had there been any of the other times he’d had to run out like today. Besides—

 

“Since when do you give a damn whether or not I eat breakfast?” Dick whisper-shouted at his unimpressed parental figure. Bruce just raised his eyebrows at Dick’s white knuckled grip on the edge of his desk, where he didn’t even realize he’d stood up to lean against.

 

Flushing with a mix of rage and embarrassment at his hopeless attempt to intimidate Bruce, who was both taller, broader and far more imperturbable than Dick could ever be, Dick went to sit back down and try another tactic to figure out what Bruce and Tim were doing. That was precisely when the heavy click of a door opening behind him made Dick freeze in horror.

 

“Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd drawled from his inner office doorway, staring at the tableau before him with no visible change in expression. “I trust your desk phone is malfunctioning? You’ve been made aware it’s unacceptable to leave clients waiting unannounced.”

 

Giving Dick no chance to answer, Mr. Todd walked out and offered his hand to shake to Bruce and Tim, measuring them both up as obviously as they were doing to him. The exchange made Dick get a sinking feeling in his chest that was only confirmed with his boss’ next words.

 

“Mr. Wayne. Mr. Drake-Wayne. What a pleasure.” Mr. Todd offered, smiling pleasantly. Dick immediately recognized the forced nature of the expression, the edge to it as the man’s eyes darkened visibly with some contained emotion. “I was looking forward to us meeting. Jason Todd, at your service.”

 

“S-Sir. There must be some mistake in the scheduling?” Dick tried, fumbling to straighten up and look composed, even as a shiver raced down his spine at the looks the three man were giving each other, sparing Dick no attention. “I apologize for the mix-up, these are—”

 

“Nonsense,” Mr. Todd sentenced, swiftly silencing Dick and earning Dick an uncomfortable glance from his younger brother. “I know who these men are and our meeting was scheduled in advance. Go ahead into my office and make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen, I’m sure we have much to discuss.”

 

Bruce and Tim went past Dick with no further prompting. Tim spared his brother a gentle clap on his shoulder, but the gesture did little to relieve the tension they left in their wake. Dick swallowed hard when he found himself pinned alone under his boss’ disapproving stare.

 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Dick offered lowly, half-hoping his family wouldn’t hear him grovelling, but Mr. Todd made no effort to modulate his own voice in response.

 

“As you should be, Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd scolded, making Dick feel about ten inches tall. He blinked past the burn of shame behind his eyelids, but got no chance to reply before his boss carried on. “You neglected to mention skipping breakfast this morning. Consider yourself on lunch break. Make sure to eat every bite of today’s special at Varnas’ Diner, is that clear?”

 

Jerking his head up, Dick stared incredulously up at his boss.

 

The man spared him a wink — an actual _wink_ , completely out of place on that normally serious, inscrutable face  — and went in after Dick’s family members, closing the inner office door decisively behind his broad back. Dick stared blankly after them all in dumbfounded silence, dread pooling cold and heavy in his body as the thick old wood cut him off completely from whatever was going to happen between his employer and his family.

 

Mr. Todd hadn’t even waited for Dick’s usually compulsory acknowledgement of his orders, and he’d obviously been expecting the ambush that had Bruce Wayne stamped all over it. Worse than that, he’d explicitly ordered Dick away from the premises and stole away Dick's chances of eavesdropping on whatever was going to happen.

 

“I’m gonna get fired,” Dick moaned mournfully in the empty outer office. He pinched himself in the arm and thigh as hard as he could, hoping he’d wake up in his bed at home, disturbed but still comfortably employed somewhere his family had never intruded in.

 

The pinches felt like they could turn into bruises by the time Dick let go of his skin, heart sinking.

 

No dice. He was wide awake.

  
  


* * *

 

 

The last bites of his lunch were sitting like a rock on Dick’s stomach by the time he was joined at his table by both Bruce and Tim. Both of them looked serious and stiff as they sat down across from Dick without waiting for an invitation in what truly seemed like the recurring theme of the day.

 

“I cannot believe the two of you.” Dick blurted out, not waiting for what would undoubtedly turn into some drawn out stalemate between stubborn, emotionally repressed assholes that would rather tear out their spleen than discuss anything of importance with each other. “What were you thinking, Bruce? What were you hoping to accomplish by bursting in into my workplace like that? How am I supposed to explain a grown man having his family checking up on him like they’re at a first grade parent-teacher conference?”

 

“You won’t have to explain anything to anyone, Dick,” Tim tried to soothe, looking earnest and heartfelt, but Dick knew better than to buy his innocent act.

 

Bruce might have been the one to plan this new invasion of his privacy, but Tim had not simply been along for the ride to play middleman. Tim was just as invasive, possibly even more so than Bruce in some ways, particularly when it came to Dick and what Tim deemed ‘his wellbeing’, which often translated into anything Dick so much as thought about.

 

“Won’t I, Tim? The two of you just went in there and ambushed my freaking boss!” Dick shouted without thinking, cutlery landing noisily on his empty plate with a rattle that made Dick aware of the scrutiny of the other patrons around their table and the sudden silence around them.

 

The visible displeasure of the waiting staff made Dick sink his head into his hands with a pained moan, certain they were about to be kicked out from the diner to really complete Dick’s shittiest day this month.

 

Slowly, noise and the normal bustle of conversation began anew around them, but Dick refused to raise his head and face Bruce’s Disappointed Visage™ head on, already ashamed of losing a hold of his temper in public. Surely someone had caught that on their phones and his temper tantrum would be plastered all over the Gotham tabloids by 3pm.

 

“Us wanting to meet with your employer is hardly out of the ordinary, Dick,” Bruce finally spoke, his voice completely lacking inflection in that infuriating habit he had to make his interloper appear irrational through sheer indifference. Dick raised his head in a flash, already indignant, but Bruce wasn’t finished. “Even he had known to expect a face-to-face meeting given our family’s circumstances. I don’t see the problem.”

 

“I know you already ran a background check on the man, Bruce. Hell, you probably had him followed and had your people double-check every case he’s ever handled. What you did today was hardly ‘necessary’.” Dick shot back, straightening up in his seat to try and project self-confidence, but Bruce was not one to concede that easily.

 

“You know why it was.” Bruce challenged, eyes darkening, and Dick felt his own blood boil at having his failings thrown back in his face yet _again_.

 

“Oh hey Bruce, we haven’t had lunch yet how about we order something, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling like some lamb might be in order.” Tim cut in with all the subtlety of a bulldozer, carelessly tossing one of the leather bound menus he’d grabbed from the next table over in front of Bruce with a thump. “Dick should be getting back to work soon anyway, I’m sure we can talk about this _calmly_ at home tonight —”

 

“Do I even have a job to get back to anymore?” Dick bit out, sick of how dismissive his family always was of his want for privacy, for space, for _choices_. “What did you two feel the need to tell my boss, huh? The meds I take? What kind of condition made me as useless as —”

 

“Enough!” Bruce shouted, sending not only Dick, but the entire diner around them into a frozen, terrible silence that dragged on for a heavy minute, before low murmurs began anew.

 

Tim was already doing damage control with the servers via hand motions, and Dick knew without asking that there’d be a hefty payout to this place by the time the Waynes left the premises in hopes of minimizing the damage to their public image.

 

Dick’s chest was heaving, hands shaking where he’d hidden them in his lap. The cloth napkin he was clutching threatened to tear apart with the force he used to grip it. He tried to breathe through the rage and the shame, and banish the stupid tears that wanted to fall down his face and finish completely humiliating him in front of everyone, like Bruce and Tim seemed determined to do.

 

“You are _not_ useless.”

 

Dick huffed out his breath in surprise, hardly expecting _that_ to be the part Bruce would fixate on. But his adoptive father was still talking, no longer sounding half as unaffected as he had at the start.

 

“You’ve worked so hard to get here, Dick, don’t think we don’t know that. The least I can do — that our family can do  — is do our best to help you along.”

 

Bruce sat back then, back too straight, already signalling the nearest waiter to place his and Tim’s order while Dick calmed himself down. Tim just left them to it while he smoothed everything over with the staff and the people in the nearby tables with the slick business persona he put on in public.

 

Soon enough, lunch hour carried on around them, the bustle of tables, the chattering of patrons, the clinking of silverware and ceramic being set down. Dick didn’t look up from his lap, his hands gripping and releasing the cloth napkin he held, even as his empty plate was taken away and a desert he hadn’t ordered landed in front of his face. The waiter gave him a small smile when Dick dared a peek.

 

“What Bruce means is that we’re sorry,” Tim finally said, and one of his bony hands reached forward across the table in a silent entreaty. “We’re sorry we ambushed you and that we’re overbearing assholes. We just worry. We’ve all seen how much working with this man means to you Dick, and your loyalty is something we take seriously. We had to double-check the man you’re giving it to was worthwhile.”

 

“He’s just my boss,” Dick muttered crossly, but Tim’s look made Dick look away again with a frown. Even so, he still reached out to grip his brother’s hand, grateful for the support he felt in the strong grip, in the gentle way Tim ran a thumb over Dick’s fingers. “You can’t always control everything around me. Everyone. Or me. I’m an adult.”

 

“Hey man, we know that. You’re my big brother, alright?” Tim cut in before Bruce could, but Dick’s eyes were on his adoptive father’s and he caught the man’s pained grimace. “I swear we’re not trying to ruin anything for you or control you at all. Nothing’s changed.”

 

“Then why interfere at all?” Dick pleaded, withdrawing his hand or trying to. His arm spasmed when it was stopped mid-retreat by Bruce’s heavier, bigger hand. An unprecedented touch that made Dick freeze in place.

 

“I had to make sure you’re safe,” Bruce spoke, eyes saying more than his words did, as usual. Dick lip trembled and he bit it to stop the reaction, blinking fast as Bruce’s other hand came up and gripped Dick’s between them, the grip warm and gentle.

 

Safe.

 

“I am,” Dick mumbled, tugging his hand back gently. Bruce let him go. “It’s just a job.”

 

“We know you better than that, you dweeb,” Tim laughed, dispelling the tension by leaning over his hot plate of juicy lamb and unabashedly stealing a huge bite of Dick’s untouched Baklava with his fork. “For what it’s worth, your boss passed muster. Now are you eating this, or what?”

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

Dick almost didn’t go back to the office after lunch was done.

 

He fantasized about calling in and telling Mr. Todd that his family’s unexpected visit had upset him enough to indispose him, that he’d gotten a headache, that his lunch had made him ill, that he’d moved to Finland on short notice.

 

When none of that seemed feasible, Dick tried to come up with a way to excuse the intrusion of his overbearing family on today’s work schedule. Sadly, nothing short of explaining Dick’s personal life would result from trying, and it was hardly worthwhile when most of it had been splashed across every tabloid in Gotham for years.

 

In the end, Dick resigned himself to facing his boss’ inevitable beratements without lies or excuses. Nothing he said would really change anything. So he walked back to the office with a dragging tread, shutting the heavy outer door with a sigh.

 

He hung his coat in the rack, and upon turning around, found his boss standing in front of Dick’s desk, staring at him in silence.

 

Dick froze like a rabbit in the headlights of an oncoming truck, heart lurching into a gallop in an instant. All he could manage to do was stare back, wide-eyed, rendered mute by the unexpected scrutiny.

 

He’d hoped Mr. Todd was willing to act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, had even faintly wished to find the other man gone out for his own lunch; instead, there he stood, leaning back on Dick’s desk like he’d been waiting for his return.

 

His arms were crossed in a way that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders and the imposing muscles beneath his dark shirt. The look in his face was serious and unreadable. He was wearing his glasses low on his nose, eyes trained above them to pin Dick in place. Dick fought the urge to cross his own arms and fidget, waiting for the verdict with bated breath.

 

When Mr. Todd finally moved, it wasn’t in a way Dick had expected him to. The man sighed like a great weight was crushing him, and raised one of his hands to remove his glasses and rub at his eyes harshly, carelessly setting them in the desk behind him before looking back up and studying Dick’s tense posture with tired eyes.

 

“Dick,” Mr. Todd said, and Dick felt like his soul had just left his body. Not once, since they’d met, had his boss ever addressed him as anything other than ‘Mr. Grayson’. “I need you to listen to me very carefully, alright? This is very important.”

 

“Please don’t fire me,” Dick blurted out, cringing before the words were even completely out of his mouth. This time, Mr. Todd cringed right along with him, visibly pained.

 

“That,” Mr. Todd said, sighing through the word. “That is what I need to talk to you about.”

 

Oh God.

 

Oh God. Bruce and Tim had really gotten him fired. Dick would never forgive them. He would  —

 

“I won’t ever fire you, Dick,” Mr. Todd’s words froze Dick’s thoughts along with his breath and possibly his heart. “This is something I should have explained long before now. I need you to listen to me and I need you to trust that what I’m about to say is not a ruse. Do you think you can do that? Not as my employee right now, just. Just you. Do you think you can trust me to tell you the truth?”

 

Dick forced himself to take a deep breath, carefully trying to detangle a real answer from the mangle of confusion, fear and anticipation swirling in his gut.

 

Jason Peter Todd was a very successful attorney in Gotham, and that meant that Jason Todd was an accomplished, professional liar of the highest caliber. Dick had no leverage against him, had no way of forcing the man to speak truthfully.

 

But Dick Grayson did trust his boss. He trusted that his beratements and insults, the constant corrections and high expectations were all for his own good. Dick had trusted him that way since the day they’d met. Since day one, and every day since.

 

Instead of trying to verbalize any of that, Dick leaned back on the closed door he stood against and nodded slowly. His only concession to the unexpected shift in dynamics between them was not verbally responding as he’d been taught by Mr. Todd to address him while on duty. Mr. Todd didn’t correct him or react, beyond a small twitch of his mouth that could have been discomfort.

 

“You are the best assistant that I’ve ever had work for me.” Mr. Todd enunciated clearly, voice stripped of the brisk, no-nonsense tones he used when speaking of cases or dictating his letters.

 

Dick stared at him, stricken cold with astonishment, sight tunneling in on his boss’ still moving lips.

 

“—rd working man, but also an honest one, and trust me Dick, that’s hard to find.” The man was saying, words almost lost to the buzz in Dick’s brain. “I’ve had to fire dozens of people who couldn’t bear the pressure I put on them, whose work only suffered under my orders. But you. You thrive. You improve on every level I demand on you, and only seek to improve further.”

 

Dick couldn’t breathe. He was shaking, he knew it somewhere in the back of his brain, but his body felt floaty, disconnected from him and far away. Dick was somewhere else, carried away by the electric elation filling his veins like a drug, making everything warm. Everything light.  

 

And his boss was still speaking.

 

“You don’t ever need to fear for the safety of your position in my office. I would have no one else but you.” Mr. Todd said. Dick thought he might have made a noise then, some mangled word or gasp, but Mr. Todd’s intent speech didn’t falter. “Even if you wished to leave, I’d part with you only with the greatest hesitance and make damn sure your next employment befits your qualities and pays you fairly. I’d take care of it, Dick. Just say the word.”

 

Dick didn’t say the word. He said no words, he lacked them all, just staring at the way Mr. Todd’s body language had shifted as he spoke, shoulders straight, arms opening from their crossed position to lay, open at his sides, hands twitching like he was repressing reaching out by sheer will.

 

He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket, Dick noticed absently, staring at the revealed skin of his forearms where he’d folded back his sleeves. When he made himself look up into the face that haunted his fantasies, Dick found the man studying him in turn, eyes roaming, face slowly flushing with something that peaked, dark, in his eyes, something that once seen, Dick couldn’t seem to look away from.

 

“That said,” Mr. Todd said, voice lowering a pitch, falling out of the earnest, straight-forward cadence he’d been speaking with, becoming hoarser. Rougher. “With my promise. With a signed, legally binding document that I’ve already drawn up and signed that ensures, no matter what, that you remain safely employed wherever you choose—”

 

“Here,” Dick interrupted, voice choked and small, but somehow still enough to matter to his boss. Dick’s vision was blurry when he closed his eyes to speak, trying to get the words past the knot in his throat. “Please. I’m—I’m _your_ assistant. I like it. I want to stay here with you.”

 

“Dick,” Mr. Todd said, and he was still so far away from Dick, physically, but the way he spoke that name made Dick’s legs tremble, made his mind a hazy, useless thing. “You have to know I’m asking more from you than anyone else would. Hell, I keep waiting for you to stop me, to refuse and walk out and maybe even sue me. I know I demand more from you than is appropriate—”

 

“I like it. I like being yours—your assistant,” Dick insisted, leaning harder against the door for balance. He kept his eyes still tightly shut to be brave enough to speak, to not hide away from that slip of the tongue that was hardly a slip at all. “Please. Please don’t make me leave.”

 

“Oh, I _won’t_.” Mr. Todd said. A shift of cloth and movement made Dick reopen his eyes, only to see his boss approaching him with a predatory stride that made Dick’s breath stutter, his heart a mad thing that surely could be heard across the office.

 

The man stepped up close, too close by far, and all Dick did was open his own stance to welcome him in. Dick let his boss corner him against the door holding him up, let the heat of the man surround him.

 

“I’ll only demand more from you, Dick. I _like_ giving you orders. Almost as much as I enjoy seeing you obeying every. single. one.” Mr. Todd told him, words low and intimate on Dick’s upturned ear, not touching him anywhere but with his breath on his skin. Dick shuddered, chest heaving, breathing in his boss’ cologne greedily, a smell he’d come to associate with guidance and safety. “It’s not about the tasks, Dick. I think you know that. I think you _like_ that I order you to do things simply for my pleasure, hmm?”

 

“A-and do I?” Dick murmured, overwhelmed and fearful, not of what was being asked of him, but of pushing too far. Of asking too much. “Please you? Sir?”

 

Hands, sudden and harsh, landed on each side of Dick’s head with a hard thump on the wood, scaring Dick into stillness between the man's arms. Mr. Todd suddenly pulled away from his ear to stare him down, inches away, so close and not touching, that usually composed façade cracked open, disheveled, flushed, eyes dark and beautiful and _hungry_ on Dick’s.

 

“Everything you do pleases me,” Mr. Todd breathed out, and for the first time, Dick could look at him and think of him as Jason. As a man. As someone just as bothered, just as unsettled, just as wanton of what had been building between them all along. “Watching you fail makes me long to punish you, to correct you. Watching you succeed makes me proud. Watching you obey, Dick. Watching you at all. Makes me _hard_.”

 

“O-oh?” Dick managed dumbly, breathing hard and rapid as everything he’d ever wanted stared back at him from inches away. So all he had to do was— all he had to do was _ask_. “M-may I assist you with that? Sir? Please?”

 

Dick’s head thudded hard against the wood of the door behind them when Jason’s lips finally took his, an arch of movement that brought their bodies together like a wave, from not touching to touching everywhere they could reach.

 

Hungry hands roaming, mouths biting, tongues exploring the warmth of each other’s mouths and skin, bodies thrown into overdrive by the frenetic nature of their first encounter. Dick gave up all hopes of thought and surrendered gladly, madly to the passion and the dominating presence of Jason Todd finally reaching out to take everything that Dick was so glad to offer.

 

Dizzy, endless kissing dragged on for minutes on end, Jason caging Dick’s body with his larger frame and ruthlessly arranging him to mold to Jason’s demands, to spread his legs for his thick thigh, to arch up into each nip on his lips, on his chin, on his neck. Dick raised his arms to tangle his hands on Jason’s hair and tried to arch up into the grip of those big, heavy hands on his hips, those muscled arms around him pulling him up and closer, always impossibly closer, like they’d melt into one.

 

When Dick could finally breathe again, those hands were holding his head still, pulling him back to be studied closely, carefully, thumbs gently wiping away tears from Dick’s cheeks that he hadn’t been aware he’d shedded.

 

“You understand what this means, Dickie?” Jason asked him breathlessly, apparently unable not to lean over and kiss his lips again, his forehead, light touches that made Dick bite back a whine for more. But those hands held him still and attentive, scrambling to hear Jason’s questions. “If we do this, you’re mine. Not just my assistant here. Mine. I’ll still be calling the shots. I’ll still be giving you orders. Do you understand that? Is that what you really want?”

 

“Please,” Dick moaned, not even ashamed that his hands were tangled in Jason’s shirt and creasing it hopelessly, leaning up for a kiss that Jason still wasn’t giving him. “Please, I just. I just want to be good for you. I want it. I always want it.”

 

“You are,” Jason laughed, and the sound made Dick smile back by reflex, wonder filling him at seeing Jason smile like that at him, bright and unrestrained by professionalism or carefully guarded composure. “You are _so fucking good_ , Dick. But I can make you better, huh? You want that? You need me to take care of you?”

 

“Oh please,” Dick sobbed, throwing his arm around Jason’s neck and pushing as close as he was allowed, and Jason welcomed him into his arms, let Dick hide his face on his neck and press close, hips trying to rub up against what he could feel of Jason’s erection against his. “Please. Anything you want. Here. Anywhere. Please?”

 

Dick was squeezed closer then, so tight it felt like he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t want to breathe if Jason didn’t want him to. It was that simple. For Dick, it had always been that simple.

 

“Alright, baby,” Jason whispered against Dick’s temple, hands gentle rubbing Dick’s back, broad possessive strokes that Dick’s muscles melted against. “Alright. If you ever want me to stop, if something is too much, you tell me ‘red’. Is that clear? Red. You say that, and you’re still mine. You’re still good. But you’ll be told to be good doing something else, immediately. Clear?”

 

“Yes Sir,” Dick breathed against Jason’s skin, shivering all over, and the happiest he could ever remember feeling. Just standing there in Jason’s arms, being told he’d be good, whatever they did.

 

“What do you say if something is too much?” Jason pressed, still hugging him just as gently, but Dick heard the shift in his voice. Less overwhelmed, less unrestrained. Regaining his footing, his confidence, now that he knew, that they both knew, what Dick’s place was.

 

“I say ‘red’ immediately, Sir.” Dick dutifully repeated, knowing the routine, knowing what to do, and for once, sure of what he was doing. Because he was trusting Jason. And Jason trusted him to say when to stop.

 

“Good boy,” Jason breathed, and Dick choked on a sound at the term, half a pathetic little whimper that made Jason chuckle and pull back to kiss Dick’s forehead. Then the man took a decisive step back from Dick, and when he looked at him, Dick knew he was looking at his boss again. At Mr. Todd.

 

“Alright Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd said, and he was smiling. Calm. In control again. Dick couldn’t look away. “It’s time we got back to work, isn’t it?”

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

Dick’s hands were raw. They throbbed, rubbed dry and sensitive, and his knees ached despite the meager padding of the carpet beneath them, friction burnt by the constant drag of the leg of his trousers against the ground.

 

The discomfort barely registered in Dick’s brain, secondary to every time Mr. Todd lowered his hand by Dick’s mouth. It mattered far less than the care required to promptly lick the tips of his boss’ index finger with just enough saliva so the man could turn the page of the folder in his lap without staining the page, Dick’s eyes turned upward and attentive to any sign of his next task.

 

Mr. Todd had balanced two heavy reference books on Dick’s spine, and making sure they remained there took the rest of Dick’s concentration as he stayed in all fours, straining to be sturdy and reliable in his assigned position.

 

“Hmm. Go get me the Leighton file from your desk, Mr. Grayson.” Mr. Todd directed, snapping Dick to attention with his voice. “And grab a box of binder clips, if you’re so kind.”

 

“Yes Sir,” Dick blurted out, already trying to move, before freezing in place when he felt the books on his back, shift. “Uhm.”

 

“Is there a problem, Mr. Grayson?” He was prompted, but Mr. Todd wasn’t looking at him, frowning and scribbling something in a notepad filled with his all caps messy handwriting, nothing like the polished lines he used on official documents.

 

“May I remove the books, Sir?” Dick tried, already cringing for having to ask, but it made Mr. Todd look at him, which was a nice side-effect. Those eyes ran over his position on all fours, no doubt looking for imperfections, before they shifted to Dick’s flushed face.

 

“You may not,” Mr. Todd drawled, reaching over Dick to close the open pages and promptly returned them to their place above Dick’s shoulder blades and over the small of his back. “Should you drop them, figure it out. I want you back here with everything I need, no using those hands you need for crawling. Now.”

 

“Yes Sir,” Dick sighed, eyeing the long distance to the door with trepidation.

 

The crawl was awkward, having to freeze and readjust to try and compensate the shifting weight of those books on his muscles every few feet, Face flushed, Dick knew his boss was staring at his ass as he crawled away from him, the weight of his gaze almost a physical weight on his back, but he didn’t dare try to look back.

 

No matter how slow he tried to go, the first book tumbled off his shoulders before he reached the doorway with a heavy sounding thud that made Dick flinch, almost dislodging the second one before he lifted his ass awkwardly to keep it in place. He heard a snort of laughter behind him, and knew his face had to be scarlet by now, but there was nothing to do about it.

 

Crawling the rest of the way to his desk was easier, safe from Mr. Todd’s eyes for a bit behind the wall. But he didn’t dare stand or use his hands, sure his boss would know somehow.

 

Thankfully, the Leighton file was in the second to last drawer in the file cabinet, within reach of Dick’s awkward grasp with his mouth as he pulled it open. Scouring for it among the others with his eyes first, and having to use his nose to separate it from the rest was doable, though uncomfortable and strange. Grasping the metal edges  with his teeth as carefully as he could, Dick lifted it and crawled backwards to pull it out, but bunching up his shoulders was a mistake.

 

The second book tumbled off Dick’s back just as he got his prize out, and Dick wanted to moan in despair. Instead he kept the folder in his grasp and used his cheek to nudge the drawer closed again, turning on his knees to his impossibly tall-looking desk, file firmly between his teeth.

 

He set it carefully down on the seat of his desk chair, metal edges poking out so he could grasp it again, then made his way to his bottom drawer, where he kept the spare supplies. Repeating the process of mouthing the drawer open didn’t take him long, though the old wood tasted dusty in his tongue, and he made a note to be more diligent about cleaning his own work space in the future.

 

He bent his head into the open drawer to rummage past papers and spare pens and pencils, having to lift away two notebooks with his teeth and set them aside before the box with the binder clips came into view, and with it, Dick’s next conundrum.

 

How to carry the box back if he needed his teeth for the folder? Shove it into his mouth? It looked too large, and he might drop the file, which Mr. Todd would be enraged about. Plus, he knew spitting out the soggy cardboard into Mr. Todd’s hand would be deemed unacceptable. His hands were forbidden.

 

“Shit,” Dick sighed, hoping he wouldn’t be heard. When no admonishment came, he relaxed a bit and leaned down to get the box he was after out of the drawer and set it down onto the floor, before putting his notebooks back inside with his teeth, nosing the drawer closed.

 

Tasks mostly done, now he had to figure out the logistics. A file folder, a box of binder clips and two reference books. Dick could totally do it, right? He had to.

 

He grabbed the binder clips box with his mouth and set it by the Leighton file on the chair, eyeing them both like a puzzle. Finally, he decided to just try to shove the box between his neck and his collarbone, and carry it like that. He wouldn’t look any dumber than crawling to retrieve all of this, surely. So he did, awkwardly nudging the box with his chin to the edge of the seat and securing it in place, taking four tries before it felt it secure enough.

 

Grabbing the desired folder back with his teeth was easy enough, even though the box nudged beneath his chin kept his neck stiff at an uncomfortable angle and dug into his throat. Mostly ready, Dick turned around on his hands and knees and began the slow movements to back out from behind his desk, eyeing around him to spot the first fallen book he’d have to carry back.

 

It’d fallen open in the fall, because of course it did. It was far too thick to carry, Dick knew, so all he could do was nudge it closed with his face, face inches off the carpet that smelled of both carpet cleaner and dirt, an earthly unusual combo that only made Dick more aware of how strange what he was doing was. But it couldn’t be helped. He had his orders.

 

Straightening up, wary of dropping the box of binder clips under his chin, Dick kicked the book forward with one of his knees as he crawled forward, then the other one, painstakingly dragging it ahead of himself as he made his way back to his boss.

 

Breathing was hard with the box pushing up against his throat, the effort and shame not making it easier when he crossed the threshold and found Mr. Todd staring at him blankly from his leaning seat behind his desk. Lit up by the window’s late afternoon light, his boss looked regal, impeccable, imposing. And Dick was crawling on the ground on hands and knees, in his creased, dishevelled suit, trying not to drool onto his boss’ work, carefully kicking a book around his legs.

 

Still, the task wasn’t over. The second reference book lay just off to Dick’s left, thankfully closed, and Dick crawled off course to retrieve it, repeating his routine of nudging it with his knees, until he had both books more or less in the same position, and he could awkwardly try to kick first one, then the other forward with each crawling step, hoping he wasn’t being timed.

 

It took him forever to reach Mr. Todd’s side, cheeks burning and breathing hard through his nose, sure that despite his best efforts, at least some of the drool he could feel by the side of his mouth must have landed on the file he carefully set on his boss’ lap, before leaning forward over it to drop the slightly crushed box of clips on top.

 

His neck felt stiff and awkward by then and his hands and knees were burning, throbbing in time with Dick’s heightened pulse. Mr. Todd observed his offerings with a raised eyebrow. The reference books lay by his loafered feet, and Dick stayed in place in all fours, unsure where to move next.

 

He wasn’t expecting the heavy hand that fell on top of his head, gently ruffling his hair and staying there, a warm weight that bent Dick forward to lay his head on his boss’ warm clothed thigh, by the folder he’d retrieved.

 

“Good job Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd rumbled down at him, and when Dick chanced a peek up, he really was smiling, flushed too like the display of Dick’s humiliating task had done something for him. Dick leaned his cheek harder into the warmth under his cheek, closing his eyes in bliss at the approval, at the gentle pet of long fingers through his hair, down to grip and gently massage the back of his aching neck.

 

He heard his boss lift the file and leaf through it, but didn’t move away from the petting, content and hazy to be given affection like this just for doing his job well. Mr. Todd’s hands didn’t stop touching him, gentle, steady strokes that relaxed Dick’s body in increments, aches and pains drifting away from him as he knelt in place.

 

Hazily, Dick felt something change when the hand in his hair stilled, then tightened. The formerly gentle fingers grabbed a hold of his hair in a fist, pulling Dick firmly further onto Mr. Todd’s lap. Dick’s neck twinged with pain from the awkward angle, but he let himself be led. He frowned when he was jostled once, twice, and only then did he realize that Mr. Todd was gently thrusting up against his cheekbone, the cock under his slacks grown hot and erect, pressing against the fabric. Somehow Dick hadn’t even noticed.

 

Dick jolted, surprised out of his contentment, but he couldn’t deny the burn of arousal in his own groin when the situation became clear. His own cock was half-hard, had been for hours now, but that hadn’t felt half as significant as the realization that their work — their play?  — and Dick’s performance had his boss in this undignified state, rutting up against Dick’s cheekbone with no shame.

 

“Sir? May I?” Dick dared to offer, making no move to resist Mr. Todd’s heavy hand pressing him down. The words came out half unintelligible with his mouth pressed sideways into the cloth of Mr. Todd’s groin.

 

Mr. Todd chuckled in response, then choked back a moan that made Dick shift, uncomfortable with his own twitching erection at the sound. The hand on Dick’s hair didn’t relent, easily guiding Dick into position for Mr. Todd to rut against.

 

“Hmm, no. I don’t think so Mr. Grayson.” Mr. Todd downright purred the words and Dick shut his eyes tight, sighing against his boss’ erection. The clothed flesh was thrust against him again and again, uncomfortable and so close, but still out of Dick’s reach. “Stand up now.”

 

The hand on Dick’s hair abruptly let go of the strands it held, and he was patted roughly, like a dog. Mr. Todd’s hand retreated then, leaving Dick free to awkwardly disengage himself from his boss’ lap and shakily climb to his feet, wincing visibly at the pain in his knees as he did so.

 

Mr. Todd watched him calmly. He smiled when Dick assumed his ‘professional’ position, legs spread apart and hands behind him to stand at attention, carefully watching his boss for a sign of what to do.

 

Nothing was said for a beat too long. Dick’s eyes betrayed him, falling away from Jason’s to look at his lap, where his erection was still obvious and obscene, tenting the fabric and making Dick’s mouth water.  When he looked back up, Mr. Todd’s smile had changed into something sharper, darker, and Dick swallowed hard.

 

Without a word, Mr. Todd stood up and nonchalantly began tugging on Dick’s tie. His fingers did short work of easing the knot and carefully sliding it off Dick’s neck, setting it on the desk. Then he tugged Dick’s shirt out of his dress pants and carefully thumbed the buttons open, one by one, revealing Dick’s skin and his rapidly rising chest to Jason’s assessing eyes.

 

His boss’ hand patted Dick’s sternum gently, fond, and murmured to him.

 

“Your blush reaches all the way down here.”

 

Then Mr. Todd sat back down in his plush chair and studied Dick again, before reaching out for one of the binder clips Dick had retrieved for him.

 

“Open your mouth. Tongue out.”

 

Dick did so, slowly showing his tongue with some trepidation. He was somehow still unprepared to have Mr. Todd clasp it between two fingers and gently close a binder clip on the tip, making him jerk at the pain.

 

“Good boy. Keep that tongue out just like that.” Mr. Todd said, already reaching for another clip, then another, and placing them unceremoniously on the sides of Dick’s tongue. “That’s for asking for something you weren’t given.”

 

Dick’s breath hitched. His eyes burned with tears from the growing sting on his tongue and the pressure already half numbing it, but he still nodded, abashed.

 

“These, however,” Mr. Todd continued, reaching for another clip and pointedly moving a hand to play with Dick’s exposed nipple. The move made Dick tense and whine, half in fear, half excitement, as his boss carried on teasing the flesh with his nail, unconcerned by the noise. “These are your next task.”

 

The clips hurt, sharply pinching his nipples and cutting their blood flow, making Dick arch his chest up and heave for breath through his open mouth. More noises fell unintelligibly past his numbing tongue, but his agitation only made his boss make an amused little cooing sound that made Dick feel foolish for trying to complain.

 

The pressing pain in his chest and his mouth made Dick dizzy, already overwhelmed. Mr. Todd paid him no mind and simply resumed touching him, gently running warm hands down Dick’s torso, around his nipples, down to his navel and back, teasing his tickling sides with visible satisfaction. Dick’s eyes blurred with sensation, tears threatening to fall as Mr. Todd, moved his touch down, down, until his hands caught on Dick’s belt.

 

The noise Dick made when the man moved to unclasp the leather belt and open Dick’s pants was loud and embarrassing, nothing like a word at all. Just need and anticipation, a fear of what was next that made Dick’s blood sing as he was played with and teased.

 

Mr. Todd wasn’t bothered by Dick’s reluctance. He tugged Dick’s belt off and grasped at Dick’s suit pants, lowering them along with Dick’s underwear over and past Dick’s straining erection, settling the cloth just below Dick’s ass. The move effectively exposed him fully while most of his clothes remained on him, covering nothing important.

 

“Now this should be the new office dress code, don’t you agree Mr. Grayson?” Mr. Todd prompted gently, hand going down to grasp at one of Dick’s balls, palming the sac gently in one broad hand, as if taking its measure. Dick’s moan was garbled, his frame shaking with the struggle to stay still and let Jason fondle him, hands gripping his own forearms hard enough to hurt behind his back.

 

“I’ve thought about it for months,” Mr. Todd informed him, thumbing away some of Dick’s precome from the head of his cock and tasting it, humming thoughtfully. “I like what I’ve made you wear, don’t get me wrong. That pretty little ass looks fantastic in those too small pants and the shirts let me see your nipples harden every time I have you stand for my inspection. Beautiful. But this now,”

 

A hard grasp around Dick’s length made Dick whine, loud and needy and go on tip toes to increase the contact, but at Mr. Todd’s tsking sound, he immediately dropped back down and groaned. He tried to roll his hips more subtly into the touch, moaning brokenly when Jason let him go to stare at Dick’s jerking erection, jostling it purposefully after minute to watch it bounce pathetically in place.

 

“This would make a nice morning view, I’ll admit,” Mr. Todd smiled, then took another binder clip in hand.

 

Dick felt cold sweat rise all over his body as he stared at it, terrified and frozen as he watched his boss play idly with the clasp.

 

“Maybe even better than the garters and heels I was going to dress you up in for secretary day. We’ll see. Those legs will pull off the skirt beautifully, so it’ll be a tough decision.”

 

Mr. Todd took Dick’s heavy sack in hand again, cupping his testicle, and then the hand with the binder clip moved. Dick uselessly tried to plead in fear through his dried out tongue, which felt felt giant and dumb outside his lips.

 

The clip was snapped closed in place right on Dick’s belly button. The next was put just below it, another above it. Every time another was added, Dick jerked, pain and fear for his genitals keeping his full attention of his boss’ moving hands.  

 

“Give me your hands,” Jason commanded next, and Dick had to struggle to get his arms to move at all, had to force his hands to let go of his nail-deep grasp on his own forearms to comply. His hands were swiftly tied in front of him with his own silk tie, the elegant yellow fabric incongruous with the ridiculous picture Dick undoubtedly presented.

 

“Now, jerk yourself off Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd ordered, sitting back on his own chair comfortably, and rolling his chair away to face his computer, lazily waving the mouse to wake up the screen. “Don’t stop until you’ve come and are hard again.”

 

The trashcan was unceremoniously kicked out by one of Jason’s long legs and left a few feet from the desk, on the other side of it. Dick watched it teeter in place before steading its position, and faintly sympathized with the object’s unsteadiness in the face of Jason’s demands.

 

“Over there and into that, if you please.” Mr. Todd drawled without looking away from his e-mail. He was already starting to type a response to the Mallen widow that he’d been dithering about redacting for days. Dick’s fingers twitched in their bonds. “Get a drop of cum outside that trashcan and you’ll be cleaning my shoes with your tongue for a week.”

 

Dick shifted, pained and ashamed, but slowly moved into the indicated place, having to shuffle at a slow, awkward step so his pants and underwear wouldn’t fall all the way to the floor. Every move tugged on the clips he still wore like adornments all over his abdomen and chest. The silk of his tie was soon stained with precome from accidentally rubbing against his painful erection.

 

Dick was still hard when he got in front of the trashcan, facing his boss’ unconcerned figure. He was harder than before, even, and the profound humiliation of his degrading treatment and his boss’  indifference to it only made Dick hotter; hungrier for proof that he was the real center of his boss’ attention, that underneath that desk the perfectly composed man in front of him was hard too, because of Dick, because of everything Dick was willing to do for him.

 

To Dick’s shame, coming the first time barely took him minutes of grasping his own cock with clumsy, bound hands and jerking it.

 

Despite it being the familiar strokes of his own hand, every touch felt amplified to Dick by the awareness of his audience, from the occasional way Mr. Todd’s eyes drifted his way as if unable to completely feign his usual disinterest.

 

The sheer outrageousness of being fully exposed and masturbating on command during business hours in an office his own family had been in that morning, the same place where his boss greeted clients and other lawyers in almost every other day, had Dick’s eyes rolling back far sooner than he’d been ready for. The force of his orgasm took him by surprise.

 

Dick wobbled in place, winded and reeling, but had enough presence of mind to try and aim his cock down with his hands, aiming it as best as he could manage to try and spurt into the trashcan he’d been granted for it. He wasn’t altogether successful, he knew, but the drops of cum that escaped seemed to have splattered on him or his clothes rather than the carpet, so Dick faintly hoped he’d be spared his announced punishment for failing.

 

By the time he was done, Dick’s cock felt spent and oversensitive, slowly deflating in his hand. Dick grimaced and kept jerking it, hissing in discomfort; then actual pain had him whinging high and shameful into the office silence.

 

It hurt. It burnt. Dick could barely stop gasping through it, half sobbing his breath as he humped his hand again, pressing hard against the stained silk and rubbing the head of his cock into it. He grasped his sensitive balls, feeling his cock twitch painfully with the returning blood flow that Dick kept struggling to draw into a second erection.

 

As he fought his resistant body, the tapping of the keyboard from his boss didn’t falter, nor did the sound of pages being shifted around, the clicking of the mouse as emails were sent. The shrill call of the outer office telephone rang loud and sudden and made Dick cry out again in fright, but all Mr. Todd did in response was stand, stretch out his back, and nonchalantly walk past Dick to answer it without another glance, erection still painfully obvious in the lines of his otherwise impeccable suit.

 

Dick sniffled his tears from the oversensitivity back, clumsily wiping his face on the shoulder of his open shirt. He kept trying to hump his bound hands with short jerk of his hips, carefully seeking and pressing the spots on his cock that usually made him hot with clumsy fingers.

 

The low murmur of Mr. Todd’s voice rising and falling as he answered the work call behind him served as Dick’s only distraction from the uncomfortable, edgy sensation of _too much_ wailing through his veins as he sought to get this half-hard cock to rise further.

 

Playing with his throbbing balls was his only choice to let his cock rest some from the friction. Dick ruefully mourned not being able to reach back and play with his prostate instead, maybe just tease inside himself to distract his body from his throbbing groin.

 

But his bound hands limited his options, and so Dick pushed through the burn and discomfort, half heartedly thinking that if his tongue were free, he’d remind Mr. Todd to take notes on whatever the caller he was speaking with was inquiring after, so Dick could update his schedule accordingly later.

 

“Enough,” He heard, and Dick jerked painfully back into awareness, shocked to realize his boss had already hung up the phone and was standing right behind him, the heat of him unmistakable despite the lack of physical touch.

 

Stopping his hands’ movements on himself was a real relief Dick’s shoulders sagged to, looking down to find himself mostly hard again, his cock red and angry looking.

 

“Good job Mr. Grayson,” Mr. Todd praised softly, voice coming from just over Dick’s right shoulder and making him shudder hard, cock jerking and making him whimper again. “Shh. Perfect. Let’s get these off now.”

 

Then warm arms were coming around him to jerk him hard against Mr. Todd’s larger frame, his ass pressed right into the man’s erection. When Dick gasped, he heard a chuckle by his ear, before those hands moved down Dick’s torso.

 

Both men looked down to watch those hands gently unclasp every binding clip on Dick’s skin, watching the angry red marks left behind, and the white skin bloom with color at the return of its normal blood flow. It hurt, in a distant kind of way, but Dick was mostly thinking of the strange bruising his skin would be sporting.

 

The last clips left on were his nipples, and Dick downright shrieked when those were released, jerking in Mr. Todd’s tight grasp on him, writhing as numbness gave way to pins and needles and pain in one brutal pull.

 

“That’s it. Open wide,” That voice cooed gently, soft lips kissing Dick’s wet cheek and he sobbed for breath, leaning his weight back onto the broad chest behind him. Dick did so, closing his eyes tight.

 

His arms jerked uselessly in their bonds as the clips on his tongue were freed, his tongue feeling like a huge, dry and dead thing that was ruthlessly jerked back to life with the pins of pain that followed. Still, Dick let it hang out, throbbing and swollen, until Jason gently nudged his mouth closed, running gentle, soft fingers over lips that Dick felt raw and parched. Dick sucked on his tongue gratefully, sniffling back tears as Mr. Todd’s large hand rubbed gentle, soothing circles onto Dick’s belly.

 

“You’ve done so good, Dick,” Jason moaned into Dick’s throat, pressing kiss against his sweat-slick skin and making Dick shiver in his arms, breathing hard against Jason’s hand on his closed mouth. “Perfect. You’re perfect for me. Anything I ask for, you’ll do, won’t you baby? No, shh, no talking. Let that tongue rest. Yes or no.”

 

Dick nodded frantically, unashamed. He'd already been stripped bare beyond nudity and beyond self-consciousness by the man behind him so many times, in so many ways, that it was undeniable. The kisses on his cheek, in the corner of his eye, on his ear were Dick’s reward, and he revelled in them, in the tenderness even as his body shook in his boss’ grasp.

 

Mr. Todd pressed his erection hard against Dick’s bared ass in response. Dick faintly thought the man must be in pain too, from denying himself relief for so long. But Mr. Todd didn’t pursue his own orgasm beyond a few harsh thrusts that Dick leaned back into, and the soothing hand on Dick’s belly moved to cup Dick’s cock possessively, drawing more noises from Dick’s closed lips.

 

“I’ve gotten so little done today, Mr. Grayson.” Mr. Todd told him softly, almost regretfully, even as he held Dick tighter to his body and squeezed at his throbbing erection. “Your emails have gone unanswered since this morning. I’ve had to answer the calls. You’ve yet to update the Ulmer case with Monday’s meeting notes, and you didn’t go get me the interview transcript files I needed from Karson’s desk. All because you needed special attention today, hmm?”

 

“I’m sorry Sir!” Dick tried to plead, tensing up or trying to, but Jason’s hand drawn tight over his lips kept them firmly shut. Dick’s clumsy, painful tongue made a mess of the trapped words. All that could be heard from him was a high, wet garble that Mr. Todd shushed him for, biting at the edge of Dick’s ear in reprimand and holding him still.

 

”You’ll be working through Saturday this week to make up for it, of course.” Dick nodded, gasping when the hand on his cock moved to squeeze at the head tightly, painfully, making Dick jump. “But you’re also gonna learn a big lesson today, like a good boy, so this never happens again. Bend over the desk.”

 

Abruptly released from the arms holding him up, Dick lurched forward, caught off balance and off guard. Held back by the pants still tangled around his thighs, Dick stumbled right across the trashcan he’d ejaculated into and sent it rolling away with a clatter. The crash sent him falling forward with an undignified yelp, and all he could do was catch himself with his forearms up to avoid slamming head first into the massive wooden desk his boss worked behind.

 

The ungraceful motion jarred Dick’s abdomen hard against the hard surface and stole the air from his lungs with a wheeze. At the same time, it left him conveniently sprawled across the desk, leaning on his now aching elbows. He scrambled to get his legs in some order, spread open for balance as he coughed, dazedly blinking down at his bound hands lying on the wood.

 

Mr. Todd didn’t say anything about Dick’s fall, but Dick’s face burned anyway, sure the man was laughing where Dick couldn’t see him.

 

“Raise your arms above your head,” came the next direction, and Dick awkwardly did so, stretching himself out over cold wood and discarded papers alike. He mentally winced at all the materials he would undoubtedly be ruining and be ordered to replace. “Grab onto the edge with your palms and don’t let go.”

 

Dick held on anxiously, unsure what to expect. His position left his ass bent back, uncomfortably exposed beneath his open shirt tails, and dug his cock painfully into the edge of the desk. His balls were similarly pressed tight into his groin.

 

He couldn’t quite spread his legs open wide enough with them tangled in clothing. The little leverage he had made Dick’s breathing quicken, panting against the wood and watching blearily as the polished surface by his face fogged up and cleared in turns.

 

He heard Mr. Todd move behind him, but couldn’t turn his head to look. Trying to fidget only made his erection hurt when it rubbed wrong against the surface he lay in. He heard a clatter, some rummaging, and fought back the urge to beg, unsure at this point what he even hoped for.

 

All Dick knew was that he wanted whatever Mr. Todd would give out, and that he’d take it gladly.

 

“What do you say to stop, Mr. Grayson?” Jason asked seriously, and Dick blinked, surprised, before raising his hoarse voice to be heard despite his still swollen tongue.

 

“I say ‘red’, Sir,”

 

“Good. That’s one lesson learnt today.” He was told, his boss’ voice coming from closer behind him now, off to one side. Hands briskly tugged at his pants and underwear then, finally letting them pool by Dick’s ankles and exposing him fully, making Dick gasp. “Doing as told is one you already knew. Posture. Clothing. Proper address. Work ethic. You’re a fast learner, Dick, and a great assistant. ”

 

“Thank you Sir,” Dick whispered, overwhelmed, the words tumbling out without a thought at the haze of joy they brought him.

 

Dick jerked forward with a startled cry when a hot flash of pain landed directly on his upturned ass, a startingly loud sound of flesh on flesh following.

 

It left his mind blank for long seconds, shocked, before it came again, just as hard, on the other cheek, then again, right below the first, each one too loud and hard enough to leave his skin tingling in their wake. Only when he heard himself crying out for a third time did what was happening dawn through Dick’s confusion.

 

Mr. Todd was spanking him.

 

Another hit came, directly where Dick’s ass met his thigh and his legs jerked in reflex, making Dick see stars when his trapped cock got shoved into the desk at an angle that sent pain rushing through his groin. Still, Dick dug his nails into the edge of the desk he held and gritted his teeth through it, vaguely aware that Mr. Todd’s hand was still landing, drawing involuntary grunts from his lips.

 

“Not asking for more than you’re given. Not talking unless spoken to.” Jason sentenced in a monotone, words punctuated by hard, merciless blows on Dick’s skin, drawn with force and intent everywhere they landed. His boss easily waited out Dick’s reflexive twitching and landed his heavy hand without fail across every sensitive spot, delighting in making Dick wail when his cock kept getting crushed by Dick’s own squirming.

 

“Those lessons we’ll keep working on, Mr. Grayson.” Mr. Todd informed him coldly, landing a hard hit precisely above the last one, near Dick’s taint and making him yelp. “You may thank me for my patience.”

 

Dick sobbed drily for the breath to speak, rising on his tiptoes when another, then another slap landed on the sides of his ass, landing unpredictably and always startling, despite the regularity of the blows. Mr. Todd’s response was to shove a loafered foot between Dick’s legs and swiftly kick them farther apart, making him almost completely recline on the desk his upper half was flattened against.  

 

“Th-than-k y-you Sir!” Dick managed, half shouting mid word when a strike hit the inside of his thigh on previously unblemished flesh that quickly joined the rest of his ass as a target for Mr. Todd’s implacable strikes.

 

“Better. Now, today’s real lesson,” Mr. Todd drawled out, pausing his blows to be heard over the fleshy sound of Dick’s spanking. The resulting silence let Dick’s heaving breaths sound loud and obvious between them.

 

“Is where your place is,” Mr. Todd sentenced, voice lower, rawer. Then the blows started falling again, fast and hard, hitting everywhere, moving from the globes of Dick’s ass to the back of his thighs and back. At some point, another hand spread his cheeks open and a fair share of punishing blows were unceremoniously dealt to Dick’s hole.

 

Dick whited out on sheer sensation, thought he might have screamed, writhing on Jason’s blows and hurting himself against the wood of the antique desk holding him up to the onslaught. His cock joined his ass in a burn of pain and still, somehow, it stayed hard, jerking in place and dripping no matter how Dick howled his sobbing breaths or how hard and uselessly Dick tried to thrust for relief and found none.

 

“Shh now,” Mr. Todd was cooing, when Dick tuned back into his voice. Dick was crying into his arm like a little kid, by then, but still keeping his position, still ready for Jason’s next blow. The same hand that had dealt out his punishment was laying on Dick’s back now, burning hot and pressing down forcibly, its pressure felt even above the painful burning sting coming from Dick’s throbbing ass.

 

“Where’s your place, Mr. Grayson?” Mr. Todd asked then, sounding like it wasn’t the first time the question had come. Dick moaned, blinking past tears and shifted, but found Mr. Todd’s hand was implacably holding him flat and still, ready for more should he fail.

 

“Here,” Dick whined out, sniffling, trying to think on the right answer. “Here, Sir.”

 

“Hmm,” Mr. Todd hummed thoughtfully, and Dick tensed, but the next touch wasn’t another hit, but a gentle touch of a hand, lightly running fingers down his ass, barely there, making Dick shiver and twitch in response. “That’s a bit vague, I’m afraid. Here in this building? Here on this desk? Here in this office?”

 

“With you,” Dick blurted out, honest and breathy, a pressure like hope releasing from his chest with saying that outloud, freeing the words from his chest after months of knowing it, like a secret, sordid truth. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Just— just with you. Sir. Please?”

 

Dick jumped, startled, when a kiss was dropped swiftly, gentle and heavy on his nape, down his back, a line of them landing sweet and unexpected across the length of his spine, right to the edge of his ass, where the burn of inflamed skin began.

 

“Good boy,” Mr. Todd— no. Jason. That tenderness, that passion, that was Jason breathing into Dick’s skin, saying those words that made Dick’s pain disappear, made him moan not with aches but with lust and with longing when he felt long fingers prod, ever so gently, to part Dick’s cheeks apart and let other digits, startlingly cold with something wet, nudge at his opening.

 

“Good boy, Dick. Say that again so you'll remember. Where do you belong, baby?”

 

“With you,” Dick repeated eagerly, feeling wonder choke him when another kiss was laid on the small of his back in response. “With you. Sir. Jason. With you.”

 

Those gentle, gentle fingers breached him for the first time as he spoke. They buried themselves inside Dick with every care not to pull, mindful of Dick’s freshly painful skin around the invasion. Dick gasped, eyes blown wide, when the one finger became two, and he felt them gently shoving something cold and soothing inside his heat, coating him even as he was steadily stretched open from the inside out, the motions drawing forth Dick’s whimpers with frustrating ease.

 

“That’s right,” Mr. Todd confirmed firmly, and Dick groaned when the fingers inside him slid in deeper, searching, prodding muscle apart in twisting motions. “That’s exactly right. Right here, with me. Not alone in daddy’s mansion, not on anyone else’s arm. Your place is this. Right here.”

 

“Yes Sir!” Dick cried out, palms tingling with the hold he had on the desk edge as two fingers withdrew from him, only for three to breach him next, harsher, less controlled. The shift in the intrusion made Dick clench around the digits in surprise, before slowly relaxing to let them in, as deep as they wanted, mewling when they poked at his prostate with little gentleness. “Thank you. Thank you, Sir. Jason. Thank you.”

 

“Shh Dickie,” Jason soothed him, even as Dick was left abruptly empty. The heat over his back stepped back, Jason moving away from him. Dick tensed, wary, but Jason’s weight came back before he could ask for him, skin on skin as Dick felt his boss’ hot erection finally touch him, unguarded save for the condom that held it. “Thank _you,_ Dick. Thank you for you.”

 

Rough, wide hands grasped at Dick’s hips to tilt him up, canting him into position as Jason ever so slowly sank inch by inch into Dick’s waiting entrance.

 

Dick whined, half pained from the contact of Jason’s body with his ass, which would be undoubtedly bruised by the next morning, half out of his mind from the pressure, the pleasure, of feeling his own body give way inexorably to Jason’s steady invasion.

 

By the time Jason bottomed out, Dick was limp beneath him. Breathing in gasps through the sensations firing off everywhere in his nerves, lighting his body alight from head to toe and wrapping Dick's mind in cotton, disconnected from bliss and completion and relief.

 

Jason thrust in gently, testing, then went in hard, rough and sudden, jolting Dick’s body like a puppet on his cock. The next few thrust built up and abated into a steady rhythm, only to break it with a suddenness that had Dick wailing into his arm, biting the skin to stop from screaming when Jason sought out and found his prostate with the head of his cock.

 

Again, Dick was rearranged by the hands on his hips, Dick’s still bound, slick hands sliding, then firming up their hold on the desk, letting the wood bite into them and barely noticing them cramping. Anything to remain steady, pushing back into Jason’s every thrust forward, instinctive and wild for leverage, for more. Still, it was Jason’s pace they stuck by, one where Dick’s only role was to take and hold on, riding wave after wave of bliss, pure and undiluted through his veins, blurring away all discomfort.

 

It was only through a thick haze that Dick felt Jason nudge his hips backwards, further into his cock and away from the desk, but full awareness didn’t come until a harsh grasp on Dick’s erection made Dick wail in startlement.

 

Jarringly, Dick could suddenly feel how hard he still was, how heavy, tight and sore his sack felt, how much it had hurt to crush and press his hard-on between wood and skin. He didn’t know how long he’d been here, under Jason and all around him, being fucked thoroughly after a hard day’s work, but he knew he was ready, in Jason’s grasp and primed for a word Dick already knew, somehow, to wait for.

 

“Come! Now.” Jason barked, tense and sudden and Dick was obeying before he recognized the words, the permission, endorphins rising up and swallowing his awareness into sated, sluggish white noise and bliss.

 

Dazedly, from far off, Dick knew Jason was still thrusting in him, harsh jolts, and that those fingers were milking Dick dry over his boss’ desk, carelessly staining documents and office equipment alike with his seed, still enough of it to matter despite Dick’s earlier orgasm.

 

Dick knew Jason must have come too, that he must have felt him do so, because he hadn’t slept, hadn’t even closed his eyes, but somehow, inexplicably, Dick didn’t snap back into himself over that desk, full of Jason’s cock.

 

No, Dick snapped-to to find himself on Jason’s lap, right in the office chair he’d knelt on all fours next to for most of the afternoon. He was being cradled in Jason’s thick arms, gently soothed by hands on his back, kisses on his face, against his lips, and dizzyingly, beautiful words of praise, of joy, in Jason’s giddy sounding voice.

 

“You’re perfect,” Jason was telling him earnestly, repeating it in whispers against Dick’s ear and pressing small kisses on Dick’s forehead, nose, into the back of limp hands that Dick faintly noticed were no longer tied together. In fact, he was fully naked now, though his boss wasn’t, the man's suit pants back on and rubbing, uncomfortably rough against the delicate skin of Dick’s spanked ass.

 

“Hey, I know,” Jason shushed, hand gentle when it came to rest possessively over the hot, bruising skin. The touch was painful enough to make Dick jump, unthinkingly pressing his face against Jason’s shoulder to hide the embarrassment that wanted to flood him at his bared body, at his shameless wantonness earlier, at his lack of awareness between his orgasm and now. “Hey. No hiding. Look at me.”

 

Dick did so, slowly, warily, but found only joy in the teal eyes looking back at his. There was something lighter spread all over that face that caught Dick’s attention and made him stare, forgetting himself in seeing Jason’s obvious pride, the obvious warmth directed at Dick.

 

“I’ll take care of you, Dick,” Jason murmured, smiling slow and bright at whatever reaction he saw on Dick’s face, while Dick tried to reign in his stupid reckless heart to no avail. It was already hopeless. Dick had been Jason’s long before this day. “Don’t be afraid of this.”

 

“I’m not,” Dick admitted softly, fingers twitching in his lap, only to slowly rise up to cup Jason’s face and kiss him in the cheek, by his lip, then properly across those lips. He was all too happy to let Jason take over from there and drag on the chaste gesture over into a real one, tongue gently prying Dick’s lips apart without meeting resistance.

 

“I’m yours.” Dick promised seriously on drawing away. Then he had to laugh when the serious, respectful lawyer that held him so carefully in his lap, blushed a startling, blotchy red all over at the words, unfazed by everything else except staring at Dick’s unmasked feelings in the eye.

 


	2. Epilogue

 

“Listen, we both know another pointless libel suit is what everyone’s expecting. They’ve prepped for that,” Jason snapped, already sick of the passivity he kept running against from Wayne’s own lawyers. It was frankly unacceptable how negligible they’d been, and Jason was already mentally composing the rant he planned to smack Bruce Wayne’s arrogant face with. 

 

“I’m not settling for playing their game by rote. This hounding has been going on for  _ years _ , since before he was a legal adult, and it’s had a measurable impact on the victim’s health. We’re going after them with criminal charges this time.” 

 

The nasal little voice of the main partner of Wayne’s hired law firm sounded patronizing and bored as they weaved their patented brand of bullshit about Wayne’s public image as an advocate of free press, blah blah blah. Just another way to say that Bruce Wayne’s reputation mattered more than his son’s wellbeing.

 

Jason just about crushed his own glasses in exasperation the longer he had to listen to the same excuses that had lead to article after article exposing Dick’s private life and even his medical records to the Gotham public for over a decade, to the paparazzi that had made a career of stalking his boyfriend, to the sordid speculation and degrading little nicknames that had tried to label Dick as lesser just to get one over his famous fucking father at the expense of Dick’s self-esteem. 

 

“I don’t give a rat’s furry ass about Wayne Enterprise’s fucking PR press, Harris.” Jason shouted, interrupting the man midword, finally done with politeness. “The names are already in your mailbox. I will be filing this before a judge by the end of the week, so my advice to you lot would be to get off your fat asses and start building the case, brush up on privacy laws or hire an expert asap. Or I’ll personally oversee that your entire law firm never touches another cent of Wayne money ever again. Are we clear?”

 

Smashing down the phone receiver on the man’s spluttering wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Jason wished it would be, though imagining the outrage on Harris’ botox stiff face did settle him down some. 

 

Clicking away from the Tribune’s latest trashy article on his screen took him a beat too long, staring regretfully at the startled eyes of the man he loved photographed outside Jason’s  _ private _ home, privacy once again violated to entertain the masses. What bullshit.

 

“I’ll find a way to get this to stop, Dickie,” Jason promised firmly, closing the browser window with a grimace and leaning back in his desk chair with a sigh. “If dear Daddy Wayne won’t protect you, I sure as fuck will.” 

 

Dick looked up at him from under Jason’s desk, his big adoring eyes looking hazy and sated as he knelt there, mouth carefully cradling Jason’s soft cock on his tongue, pretty as a picture and ten times as perfect to Jason’s fond gaze. 

 

The soft acknowledging noise he made around his mouthful made Jason smile, and gently reach out to wipe a bit of drool from his chin, absentmindedly wiping it away on Dick’s hair. 

 

Dick’s cock was still bouncing between Dick’s naked thighs when Jason checked, hard and ready in the cockring Jason had fit on him first thing this morning. He was dripping precome as Dick’s hips hitched slightly, undoubtedly riding the soft buzzing of the plug inside him. Jason thought he might even let him come before lunch if he kept Jason’s cock as warm and steady as he had so far, making no undue noise to distract Jason from his work. 

 

If only Gotham’s yellow press got a glimpse of what a beautiful, perfect pet Wayne’s beautiful heir made, Dick would make national headlines. But Dick wasn’t theirs to exploit. Dick Grayson was Jason’s and nobody else’s, a privilege that Jason was grateful for every single day. 

 

Jason grinned at him, pleased at his state, and ruffled Dick’s hair before reaching for the discarded pile of paperwork on his desk. He made a point to shift his hips and drag his chair a few inches to the side, listening proudly to Dick scramble to follow his movements without letting Jason’s cock leave his slack mouth. 

 

“Good work, Mr. Grayson,” Jason teased, smiling where Dick couldn’t see him down at the impeccable redacted letter his beautiful assistant had dutifully left for him to sign before receiving today’s orders. He scrawled his signature with a flourish, and moved to the next paper in the pile, settling in for a couple hour’s work with ease. 

 

Jason blindly moved a loafered foot around and felt his earlier temper settle to calm when he heard his pet make an adorable little choking sound when Jason pressed on his hard cock with his shoe a little harder than could be comfortable. The resulting sweet little nuzzle of Dick’s bulging cheek into his lap made Jason’s shoulders relax, mind already half working at the case he’d win on Dick’s behalf. 

 

Who would have guessed that his friend Roy could have been so right for once. All Jason had needed to learn how to relax was hire the right secretary to relieve his stress. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please drop by to admire CatKir's incredible art for this AU and tell her how blessed and grateful we are to enjoy her talent:  
> https://twitter.com/WonderCatKir/status/1112032170623684608


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